Behind Blue Eyes
by N-I-N-T
Summary: What really happend to Steve after Rockfort Island? How did he deal with everything that Umbrella took from him? Steve seeks to find refuge in places he had long forgotten when he escapes, and people he chose to ignore return to be with him.
1. Chapter 1

**Warning:** There will be heavy cursing, and possibly violence and or 'explicit' details in later parts of the story. For the first chapter I plan to leave this story rated T because these 'details' might not be added. But if I DO plan to take it further then my general responses, I'll bounce it up to M. If you find any of this offensive/crude/horrible to any extent. …please gtfo the Resident Evil section of this site. :)

Behind Blue Eyes. Chapter 1

"267, huh?" I would have personally asked for a different number if I had the choice… but I was positive that those damn higher-ups were fucking with me again. I rolled my eyes at the man who showed me into my room and glared at him while he spoke.

"I'm sure you'll like it here; think of it as a camp." As the stranger spoke to me, I could only see his bald head that reflected lights from the ceiling of my room. I sighed at him while he mentioned rude remarks to me about how much I'll "enjoy" it here. It had become a talent of mine to shut out the people I didn't want to hear. He rambled on for some time, until I turned to him and saw him scowl before walking out of the room—treating me as if I was just another piece of trash. He wasn't far off though—I was lower than trash.

I could hear him grumble at me when the door was shut. His footsteps down the hallway seemed like hammers on a chalk board. Already I missed his presence. I growled and clenched my fists, I only stood there, absorbing the surroundings of my new room. White walls—padded as usual, and a simple bed to the corner of the room, the rest was empty. The bed was built with poles—you'd think the people running these kinds of places would know better; a pole was all I needed to get out… I ran my hand over the firm, cold surface and held tightly to it. I closed my eyes, and already I could see the images. Ripping off that pole and waiting to smash the man's head open, take his keys and run past his corpse; watching as I leave behind thousands of others that would never make it out, thousands that would be punished because I was too much of a coward to save them. Father's would have to watch as their children and wives were beat to death because of me. All because I ran away. I wouldn't be able to live with that.

My eyes opened, and I felt the warm pools of salty tears start to fill my eyes. I wiped them with the sleeve of my white gown, and let go of the pole. I was trapped, and those damn higher-ups knew, even if they gave me the opportunity, I wouldn't run. I couldn't, not anymore. I didn't deserve freedom when I knew that I would injure innocent people because of what's inside me. Therefore they didn't need to worry. I wasn't going anywhere.

I couldn't.

I collapsed onto the surface of the white bed, and looked ahead at the steel door that was almost hidden by the white pillows that packed my entire room. I shaped figures onto the pillows with my eyes, and still, I day-dreamed that one day a beautiful girl in red would come to rescue me. That the white door would breach open and an Angel would stand before me and tell me everything would be okay. A smile tempts to cross my face, but then reality sinks into my chest like a knife and I look away from the door, letting my blue eyes drift to an invisible corner that I knew had a hidden camera. My dreams have long since faded away into a silly fairy-tale. I'll never leave this place.

Once again my eyelids fall closed, and I let images of nothing swarm my head.

I'm alive and I still know my name…

And I can live with that.

**Authors Note: **So, I got tired of people dissing on Steve (267 gave it away, I hope). In a lot, (I won't say most—but I don't really read ALL of the fan fiction that I used too, either) Steve is played as the 'bad man' that's trying to break up Leon and Claire, or just a typical 'bad guy' that's following Wesker for some unknown plot-hole of a reason. But, I think that if Steve was alive, assuming, and I hope, that he is, I don't think that Wesker would use him for a weapon or a lackey. He wanted Steve for the Virus, simple and plain as that. I think that Wesker would just use him, and then toss him away—and because of that, I think it's hard to believe that Steve is REALLY alive, but if he was, I think he'd be sent back to 'prison', where he's ultimately weak just being there. _It's hard to give freedom to a man that no longer wants it_, I suppose.

Hope ya'll will enjoy this little doo-dad. Think of it as a holiday enrichment of the release of "Dark Side Chronicles" (LATE to see this, as usual, I KNOW. XD). I really miss Steve's voice. Is that wrong to say? I mean, they never REALLY explained where Steve came from—maybe the character was REALLY Canadian like he sounds in RECVX? I don't know. That's just my take on that story.

See you next chapter.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Steve Burnside.**

Over the years of constant solitude, I got into a routine of reminding myself who I was. Every day when I'd wake up, I'd always tell myself again: I am Steve Burnside. I was born and raised in Alberta, Canada until I was sixteen. My father worked for a car shop. My first girlfriend was Jennifer from down the street; I attended a public school that was filled with a bunch of cool students. Most of my time was spent with my mother when I wasn't in school. I liked stupid superman comic books, and helping my dad fix cars when he wasn't busy. Reminding myself kept me sane-separated me from the other subjects that had a life like mine.

However, I never mentioned to myself what my life was _really _like. I never told myself what happened at Rockfort. I never reminded myself of the hell I was put through. And most importantly, I never reminded myself that my entire family was dead, and that the people I used to know believed that I was dead, too. Lying was the only way I ever seemed to keep myself from going insane. In all honestly, had it not been for those small lies, I would have lost control at the beginning—when I was still just another subject in a tube, and yet…

Those were the only thoughts that ever truly plagued my mind.

My eyes opened, and I was once again met with the bright padded room. Without any hesitation I started the second part of my ritual. Kicking my legs over the edge of my bed, I rubbed my forehead and took a quick peek at the hidden camera, and then rose to my feet. A wave of nausea hit me, this was another step in life that grew normal to me, so I didn't stagger, and instead I took a deep breath. I collapsed to the floor. I laid still for just a bit, waiting to see if someone would rush in to see if I was okay—only to my 'surprise', no one did. So I dug my hands into the padded floor, and then began.

Every morning when I woke up, I would commence a daily exercise that consisted of twenty pushups, fifty sit-ups, one-hundred crunches, and thirty seconds of stretching. Something about getting tired kept the 'disorder' in my body at bay. After one round, if I didn't feel tired enough, I would go in for another. Typically my meal would not come until ten minutes after my exercises. It took me forever to realize that I was on a set pattern: I woke up at the same time every day, no matter how long I stayed up.

I got back up on my feet and then dusted off when I finished. The room was so clean, that there was no real dirt. I cracked my neck and then heaved a sigh. I started the countdown until breakfast would be here and sat down on the foot of my bed. I remembered in my _past life_ what it was like to sleep in, wake up to the nice aroma of bacon and eggs, see someone happily smiling at me… and then I felt the nausea come back while I held my mouth. I doubled over and then let out a soft growl. Of course, it wasn't safe to remember what life was really like, because that led to…

"_STEVE!"_

I clutched my head and then closed my eyes tightly; trying to drown that shrill cry out with the noise of the door opening. The men on the other side slid my food in, and then shut the door without looking inside. I know if I was them, I wouldn't have. I was a freak of nature—and they're all worried that I'm hostile.

Although, I did thank heaven that the food they gave us wasn't slump; but it was always drugged. I dragged my feet to the plate and then snatched it up in my hands.

"Damn." I cursed while turning over a piece of dry bread. There was some kind of soup to the side—it smelled faintly of chicken, but the smell of the extra ingredients was over-bearing. I wanted to toss the nasty mixture. But, I was on camera, and an act of violence could mean even more bad food, and then possibly a gruesome whipping from those fucking higher ups. I was mostly worried about the bad food. That was worse than any kind of spanking the organization could give me.

I grumbled all the way to my bed, and then sat down tiredly, staring into the glass of water while I picked at pieces of the bread. The smell of the water was intoxicating. The least they could do was clean their water, I swear. While I was stared into the cup, I snatched a glimpse of what my image was like now. My hair was still red, although I had a well growing beard by now, and I was pale as the snow. My skin looked tarnished and I could tell without looking I had scars. My hair was really long; I needed to get it cut. I scoffed at the water and then looked down at my body. I was in need of a shower as well, but that was weekly—on Friday's most of the time, and it was with the other inmates.

"Man... What'd I do for some alo..." I stopped myself, and then took a quick glance at the camera, again. The idea of it being secret was that I wasn't supposed to know it was there. As far as they were concerned, I thought I was alone. But what they didn't know couldn't hurt them…yet. I looked back at my soup and smelled the fragrance of bitter tart and a moist sweetness. There was probably a lot of painkillers mixed in, and what I'd like to call, "numbing-toxins"—this is what they gave humans with my kind of disabilities so we would obey more willingly, too bad it tasted awful.

After finishing breakfast, I lay back down onto my bed, and curled up into a fetal position, the drugs were already taking place. My mind started to wonder, and I realized that blankets would be nice; but because of the creepy-crawly guys that could probably turn into a bug and slither away—blankets weren't handed out.

"Stupid bug guys…" I cursed tiredly while tucking my head under my elbow.

The rest of my day was spent like this. I'd get up for dinner, and then pace the room for a bit before the drugs would start to work, I'd lay back down, and repeat the cycle. It would be nice if I didn't have to eat the food for once, but as soon as I stop, I'd be back on the injections and put into a cell, and then possibly the tank treatment if I still didn't cooperate. Let me complain about how fun THAT was. Barking down a little bit of insulated chlorophyll wouldn't kill me; it just made me feel like a zombie.

I chuckled at that thought.

Touche.

Damn it, I had to stop doing that.

The last thing I needed on my list of weird-things-about-Steve was the ability to talk to myself. I was already slipping past barriers; I didn't need the extra case of insane added to my daily breakfast.

…I blamed the drugs for my current madness, and then rolled over on my bed so I was facing the wall opposite the camera.

Another day inside a new cage succeeded with little effort. If only I was getting paid for this... I thought about that for a moment, and then smashed my head against the bed with a groan. I really had to stop reminding myself about how life used to be.

Days continued to pass like this, and then days turned to weeks. Weeks turned to months. Every day I counted the days I was in here. None of the cells they put me in were really that different. The only real difference was if one was bright and the other was dim. I grew to like the dim ones better at times. Keeping track was the best thing I could do.

But today was weird. I was up for three hours already, my morning ritual was complete, and I had already counted down to the ten minutes that it would take for breakfast to arrive… but it never came. I heard my stomach growl, and I knew without the painkillers I'd be having an amazing rest of the day. I lie over in my bed and then shut my eyes. I'd wait for dinner.

When dinner didn't come I was starting to worry; maybe they caught me taking glimpses at the camera, maybe they stopped feeding the inmates… maybe they forgot. I gulped back a lump that formed in my throat and could feel a sting in my stomach again. I curled further into a ball on my bed. Maybe there was some new guy that forgot my room. I shut my eyes and tried my best to ignore the growing pain. My brain was starting to get back its normal quickness, I was sure the drugs were already losing their effects, and I was gaining back my conscience state. I prayed that they returned tomorrow.

But, they never came. Not the next day, or the day after that.

On the fourth day I finally got together enough guts to go and place my ear next to the door, a taboo that would normally get you shot—or worse, given bad food for being impatient. But this time there were no footsteps in the hallway, no cursing that the 'bad-men-in-white' made after they lost a creature, there was no sound at all. I pushed harder against the door, and closed my eyes trying to concentrate on one single sound, but there was still nothing. My eyebrows furrowed and then I looked to the camera, this time staring long and hard.

"Come get me!" I thought, wanting for the men in coats to come lash me and stain my floors with a pretty coat of red.

"Punish me!" I added bitterly and pushed away from the door, I glared at the camera and my voice finally returned. I just wanted some kind of human-attachment that made me normal, anything that could show I wasn't forgotten about.

"KILL ME IF YOU HAVE TOO." My fists were clenched, and debris of spit fell out of my mouth when I yelled, I was losing my mind—the drugs wore off, and my mind was alert as a stalking lion. I could feel my eyes go yellow from the virus. It was either me, or them. But right now, I was fucked until I gathered back my control.

For nearly an hour, I stood in that exact position; waiting for someone to come beat me… but no one ever came. I ran into the door and beat my fist on it a few times.

I was completely alone.

**Author's Note:** This chapter was written to fill in a few holes, let's see how many people get the reason why the facility was 'empty' at the end of the chapter. Any wild guesses? I bet you're wrong. :]

This chapter is kind of choppy at the beginning, and I'm sure if I turned it into my English teacher it would come back bleeding. I've actually had this chapter written for some time, and I've got the third one almost finished—but, alas school has started, and homework has done well to keep me from the computer and from having a life. Guess I can't win 'em all. xD

So… I wrote the FINAL chapter last night, I know where I'm heading with the Story, and I know what I need to happen so that it can get there. I'm not exactly sure how long this story will be... My estimate is about 10 chapters, maybe less or a little more. Plan on me updating at least once a week—but sometimes it might be a little longer, depending on when I can get to the computer.

See ya'll next chapter 3


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: **First I would like to start off with, I AM **SOOOOO SORRY** FOR THE LATE CHAPTER! I know I said I would be updating in a week…. But school has been, pardon my French, a BITCH lately. I've had so much science and English, and math homework that I feel like I want to crawl into a corner and slit my wrists for a few hours. But that wouldn't help. LOL. Enjoy the Chapter, it's a bit longer than the rest. :]

Chapter 3, My dreams aren't as lonely as my Conscious seems to be.

I was alone. They must have abandoned the facility, and didn't bother to execute the test-subjects… I closed my eyes and hung my head back, pulling my legs to my chest. Or maybe they couldn't—not if all the workers were dead. The thought made me want to scream. The rumbling in my stomach only did more to cause me to flinch.

It wasn't uncommon, the most likely explanation was that one of the workers got bit by a crazy inmate and he didn't have the balls to fess up. All it took was for one to turn, and then it turned into a train of errors. I'd seen it at Rockfort Island, and I wouldn't be surprised if it happened here. Although if they had testing facilities, then it could be foreseen that they had a spill of a virus; I wouldn't know the difference even if I went out there. The virus couldn't get into my blood stream anymore.

I already had my disorder.

I knew I had to leave now, I knew they couldn't come to take me away, or punish me for attempting to escape from the facility, but somewhere in my mind I knew that I had nowhere else to go in the world. After leaving this place, where would I go? Mary-Sue's place down the lane, Jack's bean stock… A fairytale world that I could disappear into…?

I grimaced and grabbed my stomach feeling a pain swelling inside. Even if I wanted to leave or not, if I didn't get something to eat soon, I would lose all control, and that thing living inside me would take over. For the past several days, I could feel myself gently rocking into the depths of insanity—the virus waking anew in my weak human figure, if I died... it would take over, possess me, and condemn me. My eyes flickered to the place where the camera once worked so diligently to keep its eye on me, now it was only a laugh, a strip of the former world which was crumbling apart right in front of my eyes.

I felt my hands grow sweaty, and I knew my nerves were working against me. There was no way my body was ready to leave this place. My mouth felt drier then it had felt and my eyes seemed so swollen now. I just wanted to lie down and drift into a sleep of endless nightmares. A place that was close to home.

Before I knew it, I was closing my eyes, hanging my head back, and letting my arms lose around my knees. My mouth fell open, and then my teeth clenched. I was almost asleep when that shriek scream fled into my ears once again—the sobs, the warm tears on my chest…The Axe.

My eyes snapped open, and I stared at the other side of the room, almost imagining the figure dancing in front of me.

"Claire."

It had been the first time I said her name in years. It was almost lusty when it rolled off my lips, and left a tangy aftertaste. The kind you'd get when you'd have strawberry-chocolates. Sweet. A smile grazed my face, and I reached out to the fading image of that girl I used to know.

"Claire…" I tested the words again, no longer afraid to say it as I reached to grab her leg, but she was turning away from me, toward the wall, smirking her pink plush lips.

"Chickening out already..?" She asked sarcastically, a line that played in my head over and over. Her voice was so smooth, like sun on a cold day. I felt myself melt into her voice while I threw myself to grab her before she was gone. Only I was met with the white padded floor, as usual.

I didn't move. My eyes were shut, and my arms were clasped around my shoulders like a cocoon. I needed to see her. She would see me. She would take me, attempt to help me.

I know it.

I repeated it to myself, I know it. I know it. I KNOW IT. I opened my eyes, with a new determination, sitting up I holstered myself to the edge of the bed, and then worked on that stupid pole I'd said I would never use on a guard. With little effort it creaked solemnly out of its position on the bed and I moved to lift it up. My body felt dangerously weak, the drugs had long since faded away.

But I felt better than I had in years staring down that door. My escape was no longer a dream, I'd fulfill it, and I'd regret nothing. I walked tiredly to the door, sure I'd look psychotic in the footage if people watched it, but I didn't care as I stuck the metal pole inside the seal of the door, baring it between the steal and started jerking. I cranked my arms over and over until the door hitched where the handle was, popping the lock out of its hole, barely enough for me to grab the side of it with my hands to try and claw the door open. Only, that wasn't enough, after I'd gotten that initial lock, it stopped right when the door was cracked enough for me to see outside.

My nostrils flared when the scent of fresh air hit me, and I felt a smile perch on my lips—I tried to stick my nose out the little crack, but when I remembered there could be hostiles out there, I pulled back and went upon my business.

Without a doubt this next part was going to be tricky, and already my hands were sore for prying the first lock open. I had to bust those three iron poles blocking the exit way, they were already bent from when I ruined the first lock, but they would still be difficult to unhinge. The pole slide coldly from my bony fingers, and I reached my arm out, pressing my face against the padded room, relying on my solely on touch only while I grabbed for the latches to release the lock. Sweat poured down my face, and I wasn't sure if it was because I was food deprived, or because I was nervous if someone…or something, I should say, bit my arm, but I was soaked in sweat. Anxious. My hair stuck to my face, and for the first time in years, my beard was itchy.

My hand met shortly with the latch to the hinge, and I grabbed it furiously. Without looking, I knew my knuckles had gone white while I tried to force the lever to release the lock. My heart started racing, there was no way I'd manage to get the door open from the inside. My eyes shut and I pushed harder until my arms started shaking and my strength was drained… and then by all mercy's will, the lock lifted, and the three poles descended back into the locks on the door. I sighed deeply, and my heartbeat started to settle, I slid my arm back inside, and then backed away from the door.

Freedom. It was right before my eyes, only steps away. One door, and then the next, then I'd be on the outside like the rest of the world—I'd be human again…Or at least as close to being human as I'll ever be again.

I took a solid breath, and told myself again.

I know.

The door seemed further away when I started walking; each step was like piling up the memories. Flashes of Rockfort Island swarmed through my head, of my home, of my family. When I grabbed the door, getting ready to open it, the memories were of my name, my life in this cell, my life as a prisoner… and my life as a test subject—what if this was only a test?

I didn't give myself anymore time to elaborate on that thought. The door was open; I never hesitated to walk out.

My eyes didn't adjust at first. It was dark in the hallway, nothing like my bright-walled-room. I shut my eyes, using my hands to rub them, they burned. The darkness stung, and I had to squint to see.

If I were to make a list of things that was running through my head for that split second... It would have nothing to do with my eyes burning.

In fact, the first thought was it was weird that no one was moving. The second, I could smell blood and death around me once my senses came into alignment—but there was no movement of any kind. The undead weren't walking to my relief. The third was that the lights were off, there were no guards, everything had been evacuated—every monster had been killed.

Every_one _except me.

My first initial thought was that I was forgotten, or at least that's what I was thinking until I started peaking into other cells. Most were not as padded as mine; others were shared with other inmates… Only every cell had something in common. Every subject was dead. Shot between the eyes or burned.

I'm sure the bug man that robbed me of my blankets never saw this coming when he tried to escape through the ventilation.

..I had to stop doing that…

I gaze more, searching for some trace of life. After minutes of search, there hadn't been any. I wasn't even sure why I was looking—I would have heard or smelled any movement or sent of something moving long before I actually saw it move… but I wanted to know why I was abandoned. I wanted to know why. They couldn't just leave me. I was hell waiting to happen.

I narrowed my eyes, looking at the foot of the stairs that was the exit to the prison chambers. I remembered descending on them when I first came here, the cold stone on my bare feet. I took one last glance back to my cell; pinching myself to be sure I wasn't dreaming. The words 267 stuck above my door like a curse, and again when I turned back to the exit to face the final act of my destiny, one last question irked me.

Why the hell was I the only survivor?

**Author's Note: **The noble Prize goes to Sheenah267, for being the closest to guess what happened to make the facility empty! Not quite on the ball though, they evacuated… but why? MHMMHMM xD I was going to let out more information then what was actually in this chapter, but I decided not to. Also, Ark was supposed to be in it for some odd reason—this chapter was first written with like him being in half of it. After realizing it didn't make sense, I went back over the chapter and deleted him. Dumb idea. xD

So. Steve's leaving, how do you like them apples? I don't know… Not sure what I want to think about this chapter. I know I want the next chapter to be like...different. I kind of rushed the last part of this one, too. Just wanted to get it done so I could update, I don't think it's terrible, but it's defiantly not GREAT. Maybe it' just this story messing with my head. Oh well. Enjoy the cheesy inspiration of Claire to shape Steve up—but hey. Claire was the one that made him got all normal after he was infected by the virus, MMHMM why not be the one that gives him the push to escape? Grammar note, I only read over this once after running spell check, so there are probably errors- you can't point them out. I probably won't fix them. Laziness ftw!

What do you, the readers, think will happen next chapter? :] I love you guys and the reviews/favs you leave me, I just hope I can update in like, a week, instead of a month like this one. Really trying, but spring break will be soon.. in like, 17 more days, actually! So maybe I'll get more than a few chapters in around then!

See you all next chapter 3


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four, I Blame You**

It was bright. Instinctively, I raised my hand to block it, it was even brighter then my cell. They could have shut the lights off, at least. I stumbled while my eyes re-adjusted. I slid my bare feet along the cold floor. Shivers prickled down my spine, and I squinted to see into the room. It was a hallway, I couldn't remember much before the stairs. I don't think I was conscious for this part...

But I remember it being louder.

"I guess I won't be second guessing myself on an evacuation..." I murmured skeptically, glancing around the hallway. It was coated in pure white. The doors leading to lesser 'animals' were white with tiny windows on the top... If it wasn't a psychotic ward for mutants-I might have thought I stepped into heaven. But of course, fat chance I'd make it to heaven. I'd like to see someone give me wings-I'd run around with a big axe, cutting off all-

I was not finishing that thought. I shuddered and started down the hall way. I only looked into a few rooms. Each room was empty, at least they weren't as gruesome to these people as they were to the lower-level inmates...These ones were just gone, not mutilated. I kept skimming, looking around, looking for some evidence of life.

Then I heard it, a shuffle... Possibly something that was alive. The noise came from the end of the hallway, but each step made me clam up. Where was I? This was like a freakish Halloween movie I would have endorsed myself in as a child... The world has been invaded by zombies, and I was one of those people waking up in a hospital... I didn't have much time to elaborate further on that thought as I turned the corner of the hall. The shuffling noise turned into a loud pounding noise.

Instinctively I reached to my sides, trying to grab a gun. Looking down and then back up, I wasn't sure why I even checked. It'd been so long since Rockfort that I shouldn't even have those reflects anymore... But I felt so naked with no weapon... God only knew what was waiting for me.

What if there really was an outbreak? I still don't know what would happen if I got bit-what if the two viruses mixed and I became some freak-show mutated slug monster? I scratched my beard and looked up to the roof, discerning where the noise was coming from. Best not think about monsters.

"Damn.." I murmured, getting used to hearing my voice again, it sounded like I'd gotten older, it was fairly deeper then what it had been but my accent still plagued me, I wonder if Claire would know it was me... I shook my head, get your thoughts in the right place Steve!

Pounding noise was getting louder. SHIT. I ran up against the wall, hoping to sink into it. My red hair kind of stuck out, I knew it. I cursed, this wasn't a cartoon, I couldn't' hide in a wall! I tried making a Tom Cruise move, and tried to climb the wall so I could hang from the roof like Spider man. But my legs weren't long enough to reach both walls. I spun on my heels, looking back and forth, turning around and around, making myself dizzy.

The noise was upon me by the time my mind clicked to just go back the way I came and hide behind the bend in the hallway. Too late now. I was turning back to my destination of escape, flailing my arms in a defensive position; expecting the worst... The noise was right above me, I closed my eyes for a bit, not wanting to see the creature that was about to end me... but the blow never came. Frozen, I finally peeked.

And saw nothing.

I looked around, breathed. Concentrate Steve, listen, where is it really... I told myself attempting to control my panic. The noise was upon me alright. Right above me... I looked up, and saw nothing but lights. There must have been a second floor... I wasn't waiting for it to come to me.

I booked it down the hall, running for the first time in what seemed like forever. It was refreshing for sure, but soon enough my lungs were iced over from my ragged breathing, my legs started to ache, and I was forced to stop only a few feet down. It was the food and water deprivation eating at me now. I shouldn't have started running. I coughed and grabbed the wall to support me.

I bawl while throwing my back against the wall, growling at the ceiling. "I did it this time!" I thought bitterly while sinking to the floor. My stomach growled again, and my muscles started aching worse. I shouldn't have ran. I should have calmly gone about things-BREATHE STEVE. I yelled, at myself, knowing that my breath was catching in my throat. I'd spent months when I first got here transforming in and out of the virus state. But it never got any better.

I doubled over. It always started with my lungs struggling to take in air. My heart racing like I'd just ran a marathon, stomach flopping around like an awkward puking sensation that would come out as slobber when I turned... and a light headed feeling that started to make me feel like I'd just taken acid. Seeing things.

I grabbed my throat, flashing back to all the times I turned-all except the first time my transformations were controlled; for Christ sake the first time took a stab in the gut to knock me out of my trance. Speaking of...

"Aggghhhh!" I growled grabbing the scar on my torso that pierced me when I first transformed. That stung like hell.

I closed my bloodshot eyes, they were wet with tears and I rolled over again. Mercy, give me a break, let me escape! Just once give me a break.

_Let me live..._

The pounding noise from the upper floor had long since been forgotten about. My eyes snapped open, and I laid flat on my back. Remember, I wasn't changing because of the virus-I was trying to change because my natural human body was weaker then I had imagined it was... How long have I gone without food or drink again?

I grabbed my head. Slowly feeling the vibrations through my body diminish as I heaved a sigh, the tears stopped. The cramps I got from running were fading-and I knew quickly I had to replenish my human body as soon as possible.. or there might not be anything left to save. My breathing was ragged and heavy and I needed to keep my thoughts inside the box. Everywhere that my mind was when I was a kid. Monsters didn't exist, the boogieman was a figment of my imagination, Creatures of the night were killed off in the medieval ages... There was no such thing as being able to transform into the incredible hulk and still be intact afterward.

My name is Steve Burnside, I've been here since I was seventeen. I breathed, closed my eyes. I fell in love with the most beautiful girl in the world, a man with blonde hair tested me to get the veronica virus. I've lived with this for years... I opened my eyes.

They didn't kill me afterward. Now that I was off the drugs, that seemed very odd... Why wouldn't they kill me..?

I narrowed my eyes at the ceiling, but didn't have time to finish my thought as the pounding noise I had forgotten about turned into loud, harsh drumming sound. I threw myself up into a hunched position and heaved lightly. Gripping my scar. I needed to start moving again.

I got to my feet, using the wall as my holster and started down the hall again, doesn't it ever end? I rubbed my head one last time before I got a steady pace forward. I was only in the hallway for another few minutes before I was in front of a steel door. I was never happier to see gray. These white walls were killing me-felt like i was in my cell... only it was narrower. I leaned up against the steel door, and found it swung open.

"Crap!" I yelled as I started falling face-first to the ground. Luckily, I caught myself right before my nose touched the ground, and I felt the door ram against my right arm while I was on the floor.

Guard was down-it's dark, Look up, look up! I snapped my head up, eyes scanning the dark room and then sprung to my feet, throwing up my arms while I grabbed back the door, preparing to use it as a shield. Thousand beats per minute, my heart raced. There was a knot in my throat, and cold sweat poured off my head. I didn't hear any moving, nothing smelled odd except... the smell of... plastic? I gasped for air like a fish.

"Don't be stupid, keep going, keep going." I rubbed my face and slid into the room, letting the door shut. The only light was cut out , and only darkness was left, with the smell of plastic... I hated plastic. My eyes were adapting quickly-wasn't as dark as I thought it was... only seemed that way because of the room I had just came from. Thanks for shutting off these lights! Think you guys can do the entire building next time? ...stupid higher-ups.

I blinked and started moving again, with each step I was becoming more eager to get out of this hell. I started walking faster, but not fast enough to wake up the virus, again. Different odors were hitting me now. Clean sheets, pine wood, oak desks. Freedom.

Yes, yes, yes! A smile pulled on my aged lips and I started toward the other set of doors at the corner of the room. I didn't hesitate to look around like I had with the prior hallway, instead I hurried past the fixtures- didn't bother to check for life. I didn't bother to check for death. I was out of here... That's all I really cared about. I touched the doors, and they swung open like the ones before, but I was prepared and slid into them without breaking a sweat.

My trance was broken when I entered the room, and I stared at the rising floor. Things couldn't just be simple, could they? Why not give me an exit, I'll leave-pretend like I was never here. Never speak another word of viruses or Umbrella again... But no, there had to be stairs. Stairs that led up to the top floor-which previously had Godzilla stomping around up there. I grit my teeth. Guess there is nothing like the present to headbutt the demon. I put one foot on a step. I wasn't going to run away. I started going a few more. I could hear the faint noise of it now. I didn't let myself slow down.

"No freaky-ass monster is going to stop me from getting out of here!" I thought while skipping steps, moving faster. My adrenaline was up enough to fool my virus, it wouldn't kick in, and because I knew that, I jumped to the metal door blocking the exit, and I wavered for only a second before lashing that door open. Here I am! Fight me!

My breath hitched when I looked into the room. I closed my eyes for only a moment, and leaned against the door frame with a sigh. "It's just a generator..." I said, relieved as I looked at the metallic monster that was shaking the ground. I was terrified of a generator. I laughed at myself and walked toward it. "Jumpy much.." I fumbled to find the off switch. There was smoke riding from one of the fans, so it must have been left on when the employees evacuated. After awhile I found it, and pulled the lever back, it groaned at me, and then screamed until it slowly started dying into a small hum. I was covering my ears.

I yelled and backed away, running into the door that I entered the room from. My ears rang from the high-pitched squeal of the metallic monster. Slowly, I removed my hands from my ears and sighed, muttered something and turned.

I should have turned sooner, should have scoped out the room before dealing with the generator. Two seconds too late. My head collided to the ground and I was pinned with a knife held to my throat.

...Damn it.

**Author's Note: **Talk about a Bitch of a chapter to write. xD The ENTIRE way, I kept switching from first to third because I was writing Haunted, and starting the next chapter of Decisions, Decisions. Because both of those stories are in third person while this one is in first... talk about a pain. SO, if there are any "he did this" in there. That's why. Lol

Bet you guys thought I wasn't going to update? I didn't either.. was running on almost no motivation to write this chapter, and like before-I'm not very happy with it. WHO'S ATTACKING HIM! GASPP!

WELL. besides the length, I've really gotten somewhere with this chapter- I'm excited to start writing the next one now!

PRAISE THE PASSING WRITER'S BLOCK! ENJOY THE CHAPTER!

Thanks for all the support guys, I really appreciate it. ;3; brings tears to my eyes every time i get a review!


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: Spent Hours**

I shouldn't have gotten cocky. This will be the death of me. I grunted, closed my eyes, and then reopened them, trying to see the figure that pounced on me. Don't lose focus, I told myself while grabbing what I thought was its shoulder and the wrist that led to the knife. The knife dug into my neck, breaking the skin. I felt little trails of blood run down my neck and i cringed lightly. My head bounced on the tile while I tried to throw the thing off. It was screaming at me with cold hands and its long, dark hair tickled my face. At least it wasn't trying to rip open my neck with its teeth. Sadly, the knife wasn't feeling any better.

My heart pounded in my chest while I finally managed to pull its hand away from my neck and attempt to turn it back at my attacker. My arms were shaking as I twisted its wrist. I assume it knew that it had met it's match quickly, because it dropped the knife by my head. I grunted and felt it's knees digging into my legs, it was human-I think, and if it was human, that means it is removed like a human. My fist crunched into it's nose with a deadly crack, blood dripped onto my hand and it threw itself off of me, stumbling backwards.

In a normal action movie, I'd return to my feet right away and charge the attacker with bravery and might like a lion-but this wasn't an action movie, and I was no Arnold. Thereofre, I was a tangled mess trying to stand. I flailed my arms around for some time. I was reaching to grab something, but when I realized there wasn't anything to grab onto, I sunk to the level of holsting myself up on my elbows and pushing myself to me feet. Instinctively I grabbed my wound. It was tiny, but it still stung-much like a papercut, assuming I still know what one feels like.

First I notice that the _thing_ is not really a thing at all, but rather a lab-rat in a white coat. It was female, also. The lab-rat of speaking held her face while I stuck close to the wall, she was staggering backwards and I was inching toward the generator. I turned away for _only _a moment to look for a weapon of some kind, a bar, a stick, hell even a wrench would suffice right now. Sadly, I didn't have time to skim further because that split second was enough to have her starting back at me waving her arms like a fucking mad person. Sometimes, I swear, I hate my life.

Her face was hidden by long tangles of black hair and only the steady trail of blood, from where I hit her brought color to her dark features. I yelped and moved in the other direction, dodging her while she struggled to grab me. I wasn't as fast as I thought I was though, because she spun on her heels, and was upon me much like she was before. She didn't smell like death, she had to be alive. So why the hell was she attacking me! Stupid steve, shut up. I don't have time to think, get her off, get her off!

Some part of me wanted to scream but as my head collided with the metal racks that protected the generator, I could only grunt. The metal was still warm from the former running geneorator, and having not been exposed to the heat in a long time, my back erupted in pain from the heat. Out of pure instinct, I grabbed her by the collar of her shirt and rammed her into the wall in front of me. I let out a scream right as she did. Her hands fell away from my shirt.

Quickly, I dove away, reaching for the discarded knife and picked it up. The panic started to settle while I spun to face her again. My eyes weren't jumping around the room, and i focused on her. Her coat wasn't clean; it had dirt stains and an off-color white to it. I felt myself laugh hoarsly in my head, now it had blood stains. She got up again and ran back for me.

Even now, I'm not sure what I was thinking when I raised the knife to defend myself. I looked away as her chest was impaled with it. Her warm blood coated my fingers and dripped down my arms. I screamed and let go of the knife. She didn't make a noise as her body fell to the floor. And I didn't look back until I was leaning up against the wall with haggard breathing. Damnit, Steve, all I had to do was ask what was going on, I didn't have to just kill her. Tears welted in my eyes and I slid down the wall, staring at her limp body. Her chest didn't rise; the knife had gone completely through. Just from the position it was at I could see that it punctured her heart. I didn't look at my hands as I crawled over to her, flipping her onto her back.

I leaned down placing my ear next to the wound, and my suspensions were correct. There was no heart beat. I stood up and gripped my fists into balls that I walked away with, going out the way she came in, but I stopped at the door, and turned.

There was no way I could leave her there like that… it was my fault she was dead—I should have spoke with her instead of panicking. I should have at least TRIED to say something instead of grabbing a knife. I should have told her to stop, but no, I just let the knife impale her—already I was screwing up and I'd only been out of my cage for a few minutes.

Slowly I slid my feet back over to her body and then fell to my knees next to her. Salty tears poured from my eyes as I grabbed the knife and then yanked it out. Her chest rose as the knife rose and I set it aside. The bleeding came out quickly now and I didn't bother to place my hand over the wound.

"There's nothing I can do about it now..." I warned myself before I started listing the reasons why this wasn't my fault. I leaned over her and investigated the wound. She shouldn't have died instantly, but with how skinny this woman was, the shock probably killed her rather than the blood. I bit my lip and looked off to the side, I had to pull myself together.

I scratched my head. If there's anything that I learned from Rocketfort it was to check the bodies, because there's always a locked door somewhere. I wasn't going to strip her, just check her pockets. It was really odd to do anyways. Seeing as she was dead, I almost couldn't do it. Luckily I found what I wanted in the first pocket I checked in her coat; folded paper and what felt like an ID card, I put them both in my pocket. Now that I had what I wanted, as fast as possible I stumbled away-fearing that I might do something stupid.

The smell of blood was intoxicating, and not to sound disgusting, very alluring to my viral side. Blinking once or twice as I rolled my tongue in my mouth, lips dry from dehydration. The virus barked at me, one bite wouldn't do any harm. She was already dead. You killed her; doesn't that make you the same level as those shithole zombies? I could hear my heartbeat while my eyes widen. A churning in my stomach made me look away. SHIT. I grabbed my mouth, feeling puke rising and ran for the door unable to stand around the corpse much longer. I didn't think when I opened the door, and I didn't check what I was running into, only threw myself inside and grabbed the nearest object to brace it shut. Not to stop her from getting in here, but to stop myself from going back.

The room I entered was another hallway. I felt a groan in the back of my throat, hallway after hallway, give me a break. I guess the people that built this place liked consecutive ideas. I was far from complaining though and I started walking, ignoring rooms and only looking for a door that had 'exit' over it. In my hand I fumbled with the paper and ID, not quite ready to see who I killed yet. I turned a corner, and then another until I realized that I was totally lost and had gone in a circle. I was staring back at the door I came in from. which wasn't good considering fresh blood was still on my hands, and the idea to kick open that door was very tempting.

For only a moment did I stare longingly at the door, and then peeled my eyes away, trying to focus on the maze of a building that I was in. The people who built this place didn't label it correctly if I couldn't find the exit. I cursed and took in a deep breath. Seeing my hands red only worsened the feeling as I shut my eyes slowly, preparing to look at the ID. There was a fine coat of plastic around it, and bloody fingerprints. I used my shirt to clean it up a bit. The blood seemed to stick on it though, because Ihad to squint to see the name. Obviously I could tell it was her tag, it had her picture—a much clearer picture. She was fairly pretty when she was sane.

"Linda..." I muttered, only seeing the first initial and a scratch of the last name, which I wasn't even going to try and determine. I killed the woman; I don't want to butcher her name, as well… The thought hung bitterly in the air before I tucked the card away. Next to investigate was the paper. It was crunched up from being in Linda's pocket, but I tugged at it eagerly. Maybe it had a word or two about where I had to go to get out.

Sadly, when I opened it, there were too many things I didn't want to see.

"_Dear Steve,"_

She called me by name. Lucky me, at least I know they left me alive with a purpose. I looked back at the note.

"_If you're reading this, I'm dead. You're the last test subject alive in this facility; I am clearly not allowed to distinguish why, though."_

Thanks, I'll just keep asking myself that question while I wander these halls forever.

"_I am also the last person alive, or was the last person alive in this facility- are an escapee, you'll run and never come back to this facility. You'll leave heavy evidence that could permanently damage- in your trails. Surely this place will be found by-"_

Blood covered a pieces of the note and I couldn't make the words out.

_ "-vacuated for personal reasons. You do not need to know the reasons why. You need to destroy this facility before you leave, and given that you don't feel like you have a reason; I have given you one as ordered by my superiors. I injected myself with the exper-irus, and if you did not take a blow to my head; I should be-any second now. Even if I do not, I'm still contagious. Do not wonder- did not end this place by myself-not allowed to tell you._

_You are obviously a smart boy and have taken my ID, if you have not, you'll need to go back and get it. The card opens the door to the east wing of this facility. Experiments were held there before - no leaks of the viruses. All of the virus samples have been moved with the personal._

_I locked myself in the west wing. If I am correct, you should be somewhere in that area. - down the hallway until you reach Room #402. The door is locked, but it is wooden, if all else fails you should have no problem busting it open. Follow the rooms in order until room #408. You will reach a hallway that exits into the east wing laboratories._

_I won't -leave this place, and if you do not fol - East wing, you will never find your way - reach the lab, you will activate the self destruct. The ID number on my card is the access code to destroy all evidence of this lab, and it will activate the self-destruct system. After you -system a map of the facility will program itself on the computer in the back of the experimental lab. Your escape -be shown then. The self destruct cannot be deactivated, and all doors will be unlocked. Make sure you seal the door my corpse is in._

_Good Luck,_

_Linda."_

Well… At least now I know that your death was pre-determined. I sighed in relief, feeling guilt that I was relieved her death was no an accident. To be deemed a murderer by accidently stabbing someone ten minutes after escaping just wasn't my cup of tea, so I took the idea that she wanted it, and ran with it

Even though most of the note was covered in blood, some of it was caused by my own smearing I'm sure. I read the note again, and again until something finally clicked. Injection equals bad. There was also no point in asking questions. There was no one around to answer me. As far as being alive went… I should be glad they just let me live.

_BAMAM_

I jumped and snapped at the door. Up so soon? My fingers started shaking. There were a lot of bodies on the last floor-what if she managed to somehow...infect them? I didn't think further on it as I made sure the chair that braced the door was secure and quickled started down the hallway. It didn't take long to find room 402 after I'd already gone down the hallway. Even when I couldn't see the door I came from, I still heard the pounding.

Even if the note was a lie, what did I really have to lose besides my life I never really had for ten years? Might as well take my part in the destruction of this virus… Plus the idea of blowing this place up wasn't a terrible idea—I'd be lying if I said the thought hadn't crossed my mind once or twice. Linda was right. She did give me a perfectly valid and reasonable idea.

**Authors Note: DID YOU GUYS HEAR ABOUT RESIDENT EVIL: OPERATION RACCOON CITY? **I can't wait for the release! Supposed to come out this winter, I wonder if it truely will... if it does, expect me to be playing that! LOL

**Sadly** as much as this was finished in the same month, it's been finished for much longer, I've had it done since the fourteenth. But recently I've had some computer issues, and the comptuer I had this written on crashed. We barely got it fixed a few days ago and I saved the chapter to my flash drive so I wouldn't lose it. This also means that, sadly, the editing process took a bit longer because I did not have microsoft word to spellcheck. I took it to an online spellcheck though-it didn't catch anything, but they aren't very reliable, are they? Lol.

And prior to what happend before my computer crashed, I finally bought "The darkside Chronicles" And… I sill don't like the first person shooting, but it was an RE game. I had to have it. Seieing RECV and RE2 in such amazing graphics though… Totally made my day. I wish they'd go back and remake the games with those graphics. It would be amazing.

I left a lot of plot in this chapter. And I didn't answer any of the questions I'm sure people are asking. |D You'll find out in the last chapter, as I already have it written up. I just have to get there!


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6, Biting back**

The facility was on fire, debris of the building laid spewed about me as if someone fired a rocket launcher at it, and me? Well I'm currently on my ass, pulling myself back one arm length away at a time to get further from an approaching monster tyrant. Blood trickled into my right eye causing me to close it, and I looked up at the top floor to see the window I was thrown out from. This is just my luck! I thought _Linda_ said this place was abandoned aside from me and her-Why did she let this _thing_ sneak in...? Then to top it off, let it mutate into this worm looking monster.

I inched backwards just a bit more, and then stumbled to my feet; a few glass shards were in my back and some in my left leg. My white leggings and white shirt that I wore in my cell were stained with my blood-There was a smaller gash on my forehead, which welcomed plenty of blood into my right eye. Each step I took backwards caused the shards to dig deeper into my leg. With a heave, I started to stare at the approaching monster and then moments later tore my gaze away from it. It wailed at me in fury and started to charge me faster while I looked for a way out of this mess... How did I end up in this situation again…?

After getting that Letter from Linda I decided that I would end this facility with little to no thought about it, I mean, why not? This place was hell on earth and had all of its demons-blowing it up would do the world _good_. exhaling, I stared at the door that led to the room 402. The hall way was fairly small, so I didn't have too much room to ram it, but I did have room to kick it, which I'd give a try first. I raised my leg and slammed my foot against the door. Sad to say, nothing happened so I stood there for a second, letting my foot rest against the wood.

"Not my smartest idea." My foot started to throb from kicking the door as I placed it back onto the ground. Ramming the door was my second best choice. I pressed myself against the wall, this time determined to crash into it, instead of...stupidly kicking it. I inhaled and then threw myself forward the hardest I could. The door creaked under pressure, I back up again, and rammed into the door-I repeated this five or six times before the door finally gave way and bust open. Needless to say, I fell through the doorway and stumbled into the next room. The walls turned into a wooden look, like I walked into one of those fancy hotels... the ones that smell like cherries, never mind. I rubbed my forehead and then attempted to close the busted open door.

"There we go..." with a sly remark I turned away, nothing stirred in the room, all the tables, counters and little food places were barren. I guess I found the Lobby or something, still, it was too clean to enjoy-there was no dust...nothing, shining wooden tables and the cleaned comfy chairs sat free of clutter and mess. I bit my lip, eyes lingering on the chairs-they looked so peaceful, as if a soul had never even taken a seat in one. Oh how the idea to sit in one was tempting. I chewed on the idea for awhile looking up at the ceiling. The lights were off and the room smelled of febreeze.

What the hell? Slowly I marched to the abandoned chair, and the closer I got without any fray, the more confident my steps became. Once there I pulled the chair out, there was no loud squeal when it brushed over the carpet floors, and then I plopped down on it, sighing happily.

I could, truly, stay here forever. My eyes fell closed and I slid down into a slouch. The things I took for granted in my former life. My eyes flicked open. I don't think it sunk in before, but I was going back-back to civilization, gazing toward one of the old cafe's I rubbed my neck. It'll be strange going back for sure, I'd have to apply for a job, live as a third class citizen forever because I won't be able to get a good job because I don't know how to do anything-aside from get tested on. Maybe I should go to school to become a doctor. I folded my arms and tilted my head. Claire would definitely like a doctor... or maybe just one of those people that help out around the hospital? Not the janitor, but a receptionist? Nah, that's kind of a girly job... To hands slipped around my neck as my brain started to wander. The lobby changed from an old fashioned easting area into a cozy little house, I was on the couch and Claire's arms were wrapping around my shoulders, grabbing them with the force of 'love'. I smiled and heaved a sigh.

"Hey Claire...!" As I turned, the image I formed for myself in this little room disappeared as I saw that ugly face with gnawed teeth ready to sink into my throat. My eyes widened and my skin drained of even more color. If I wanted to lie, I'd say I didn't freeze up and I'd smashed that monster in the face and gotten it off of me without a second thought...

But in my head I was still seeing the image of Claire. How did I even know Claire made it off of the Antarctica? I didn't, I never heard about her after the incident-I only heard about Chris. I gulped. Claire could be dead and I never knew it... The monsters face dipped down and was nearing my throat when I saw the white lab coat and threw myself forward, tumbling over onto the floor. This movement caused _Linda _to let go of me and fall forwards, stumbling closer to me. She barred her teeth and I could only laugh at myself.

I was being stupid. I shook gently, eyes narrowing-there was no way that Claire didn't make it. I'd be damned to think otherwise-I just.

"I just have to find her when I leave..." With that I jumped up onto my feet. Linda was already within grabbing distance but I moved back enough so that she couldn't get a hold of me. With a small twist of my body I threw myself on top of one of the tables and jumped weaving through them until I could jump over the counter and into the cafe I looked at earlier.

Gun, knife, weapon, stick. Pole? Something! I grabbed for everything in the cafe until my hand held firmly onto, a glass cup. My jaw locked and I set threw it at Linda. It didn't do much to stop her, really, it just caused her to stumble a bit more. She moved toward the entrance, and I was still shuffling items around until I found a pole, she was behind me by the time I removed it from the sink.

I brought the pole up as she lingered on me again, then turned as she started to bend. My eyes locked with her pale ones, and anger erupted in my bosom as her wet mouth opened to bite me.

"No!" I screamed and penetrated her mouth with the sharper end of the pole and ran at the wall until the pole stuck there. Linda, stuck on the wall, still grabbed at me but I bent the pole up on one end so she couldn't get out. Without a mirror, there was no doubt that my eyes went yellow. My nostrils flared as they normally do when my virus control is acting up. A low growl escaped my lips but didn't notice at as I grabbed one of the drink mixers off the counter and tore it off.

"Stop following me!" I yelled and then brought the can onto the top of her forehead. Blood splattered everywhere, much to my demise and I threw the can away. Quickly I turned left the little cafe. How could I get so stupid? Dropping my guard to the extent that I couldn't even smell her coming toward me. She was covered in blood, I must have been really deep in thought for her to slip under my nose...and to think that she was Claire. I grabbed my forehead, that was something I never wanted to think about again.

After leaving the cafe, I didn't return to sit on the chair instead I went for the exit that Linda told me about without looking back... but sometimes I wish I did. Just to see Linda bleed black would have been a good concept for me to understand how I got into the situation where I'm staring down a tyrant.

Once I got out of the Lobby, I followed the doors until I was brought to the lab entrance. I never slowed down after what happened in the lobby. Nothing that happened in there could be taken lightly-Claire might not have survived after getting attacked by me. By me! For god's sake I could have killed her! I had to know she was alright! She was my drive to survive in this hell hole. I.. I looked down shamelessly, it was best not to think further about Claire. It made to many unwanted questions.

I used Linda's card to get into the lab that had the self destruct system, there was a large window on the far part of the wall, and the walls were dim with metal. At least it wasn't a padded white room. There were camera's that showed nearly every room in the facility, but the only one I cared to look at was the one that showed the inside of my cell. The door was really bent open. I couldn't help laughing. It felt strange looking in on my own cell now, just an hour ago I never thought I'd leave it. Now look at me. I smiled. Freedom.

Without searching the room to see if there were any other samples of the virus remaining, I used Linda's card to access the information on the computer. Not to my surprise, I grumbled, everything was erased except for the code to the self destruct. In a way that made me extremely irritated, because I wanted to know everything that they did to me... but I guess it couldn't be helped. My stomach growled in agony and I started typing in the code. Soon enough I'd be gone for good.

"Self destruct system has been activated. All locks have been released." I sighed. "What's with things always blowing up?" I asked and then watched as directions came up to leave the facility. They were pretty simple to follow, seeing as the exit was back down the stairs that I had taken when I saw Linda. I groaned, there was an elevator in the lobby room, turns out I was on the second floor. Those sneaky bastards. I sighed and then turned, keeping my eye on the computer, three minutes until this place blew. My gaze fixed onto the door, that was plenty of time to get out. But the site I saw at the door wasn't that of freedom...

In fact, I didn't have time to react. I had no time to think about the situation, or time to avoid it. Hell, I didn't even have time to pray because I was flying backwards through a window before I could blink. Shards of the shattered glass lodged into my body, and others dangerously spiraled to the ground.

"Well I didn't think I'd go out like this." My head was throbbing. That's probably where I got hit at, huh? I couldn't touch the wound, my arms were numb. I laughed at myself as the world started going dark, and then the sharp pain of smashing into the ground.

When I woke up, it was because of the loud vibrations from the building exploding, I was out for at least three minutes-a dreamless unconscious state... Those were always the worst because it felt like I was dead. I groaned, and moved around, then slowly, I saw the huge monster in front of me...

That's how I got in this situation. My feet were numb now and I seethed. Destroyed the lab to let one _rat _get out anyways. It was falling apart, or so it seemed, the heat seemed to be hurting that damn monster. This was an advantage, seeing as everything behind him was on fire now. Another piece of the building exploded as I pulled a shard of glass out of my leg. Blood shot out and I couldn't believe that the shard of glass was so long. Grunted because of the oozing blood, I bit my tongue and then threw the shard at the monster. It didn't even make it flinch. It only swallowed the glass. That didn't make me want to get close to it, it would just scoop me up and then eat me. Backing up even slower, I growled. The further it got from the building the stronger it seemed to get. I couldn't let it get too far away from the fire, so I sprinted toward the flames. If it woke up my virus, what was the worst that could happen, I'd go all green tyrant and kill this guy and then rampage on any near city? Nah, that doesn't sound too bad.

I jumped over a piece of the roof and rolled underneath a shard of a large piece of glass. The stupid tyrant followed me, but it broke the items I dodged so carefully. This plan would be so much easier if I didn't get knocked out of a window. I could have timed the explosion so the monster would explode with the building, then jumped out of a window right before the building exploded. My eyes were yellow again, because every symptom was coming at me in full force as the smell of blood rose. My teeth grew a little more as I looked at the worm monster. It was too close to be comfortable now and the flames were starting to sear the back hems of my clothing, so I grabbed a burning pole from the rubble and threw it at the Tyrant. With a wail, it stumbled backwards. My hand was steaming from grabbing the pole, and to clenched it to stop the pain, but as I looked down at it I could see it healing already. Slowly my eyes grew wide, I wasn't truly surprised, I can't lie-but I never remembered healing _this _fast. That stall was the end of me though, because by the time I looked back the monster stretched its arm out and bitch slapped me away from the fire and the building.

The tree cracked under pressure when I collided with it. My stomach smashed first and then my head and then my legs. A painful shatter of glass rang in my ears as I choked back blood that rose into my mouth.

"Fucking eh..." I mumbled and grabbed my head letting my eyes close, the symptoms of the virus dissipated because of the injury. Grunting, I let myself slide back to the bottom of the tree. I could hear the tyrant approaching me with another wail, so I forced myself to glance behind me only to see that its arm was on fire.

"Take that you bastard.." I coughed and stood up onto my feet, facing it again, using the tree as a brace. I smirked and closed my right eye again. What a way to die. Finally escape the facilities that held me for ten years, and then get killed by something uglier than me. How freaking amazing is that?

Lucky for me though, I didn't have time to further my thoughts because a loud humming noise rose over my head. I squinted my eyes toward the sky and saw large helicopters flying over my head. They were easing down at the sight of the fire and I heard them screaming and yelling when they saw the monster. At first I believed I was saved... a smile dancing on my face, and then an instinctive gut feeling told me to run, so, I ran. I ducked into the trees and ran a few meters in before I stopped to turn and stare at the Tyrant who was stopped in confusion at the new enemies.

Fire shot down in a blaze from the helicopters and the tyrant exploded into a burst of flames. They had men jumping out of the copters and landing on the ground below them, ahead of the tyrant. even though they weren't looking for me, I ducked instinctively so that they couldn't even if they did decide to look. Gun fire rained down immediately after they landed and I flinched, it was my first time hearing gunfire in years, and it did nothing to stop memories from Rockfort to flow back in. I inhaled sharply and hid behind the tree, covering my ears, but I couldn't tear my eyes away. The tyrants wail was so loud that I almost felt sorry for it, it sounded like it was in so much pain...

Ten or so minutes later the gunfire and wailing stopped. I watched every second of the destruction. It was gruesome-nasty, but the wormy tyrant that would have killed me was nothing more than goo now. The soldiers started to put out its remains with extinguishers, the smell was horrible so I used one of my hands to cover my nose. I guess I wasn't rescued just yet because I didn't feel safe walking out into that operation... These suits, their formation, nothing looked familiar...

"...Tricell..."

**Authors Note: DUN. DUN. DUN. **Got to have one of these every chapter. That's my goal. LOL. So, it's been awhile since I updated.. ha-ha, I started working and taking summer classes so I've been busy. Didn't edit this very much, only went over it once, just wanted to finish it, so it might not be written as well as the other chapters. This chapter was by far one of the easier chapters to write. I think it was because I wasn't really doing any "plot" thickening. Was just writing a chapter that got Steve out of the facility and see a huge monster to introduce the next part in the story! 8D

This chapter was really long but I didn't want to break it up, so I kind of made a flashback kind of thing going on. The tyrant wasn't even included in the original draft, neither was the return of Linda, or for that matter, Linda turning into a monster with-WHAT VIRUS? I can't tell you ;D I added it after I thought this chapter was /really/ boring, and the story was turning into one of those "Find your love, Luke!" fics... Which you know, doesn't sit well with me. I love Steve getting the girl and falling in love, and being all sick to find his lover and everything, but like :D It's really, really hard for me to write a sappy love story, so bare with me, and that's not what I want, anyway, I want the story to have... something different, I guess. The story will be lots better this way, believe me. That's why its "drama/horror" and not romance. It is about Steve, after all.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note**: Sorry about not updating in awhile! I've had little to no inspiration in these past months, my work and school have once against drew knives on me and I can't seem to get them off anymore. But, I've finally got some stuff settled, and I just finished an amazing book, which inspired me to write again! I hope you all enjoy the chapter :) (Also, I'm fixing the errors in Chapter 7; some of them are SO BAD I can't even get through the chapter. LOL!)

**Chapter 7, I have hours.**

The process in my mind clicked until I felt a shudder run down my spine. Wasn't Tricell Umbrella's rival company ten years ago? Or had they just started. I couldn't remember now, everything was blurry—small details about companies, I hadn't paid attention. At least, I never paid attention to my dad's business deals, nor the ones that revolved around him, at the time they were boring. I grabbed my stomach, and hunched forward, my back was beyond sore—I felt like a hunchback as I tucked myself into the darkness of the tree, my breathing was ragged, but I narrowed my eyes. They human in me wanted to run and never look back…but my virus, my attachment, knew after everything that happened, I couldn't just walk away. Not yet.

Tricell easily tore apart the remains of the monster and had it shuttled and stuffed into a metal container before I could even blink. Mercenaries wandered around, searching the near forests to see if anything else escaped... I watched them skeptically. It didn't occur to me that I needed to move until I was in view of one of the men. I staggered backwards, keeping my feet steady; there was no time to be heard. I lightly jogged behind a bush and ducked down right as the man searched the spot I was standing before. He looked at the bush I hid behind, but his eyes quickly skimmed over it, completely missing me before he continued his business, continuing his search.

These men weren't trained… It wasn't that I knew how training went, but a trained man wouldn't have over looked this area; they didn't spread their search out past the front line of trees… Maybe they really believed that the entire place was evacuated before the destruction, a timed self destruct maybe? I rub my temples between my fingers. There were too many flaws; no one else knew that I was left alive? Why wouldn't they, they seemed to know immediately that I escaped finally, but when I dipped my head over the horizon of the bush, they were getting ready to leave. There was a stark old man with white hair giving orders to the crew. He yelled something about letting the fire die out itself and something about heavy rain showers. I leaned closer, on the tips of my toes to listen. The blazing fire behind him was disrupting my flow of fine hearing, and the shuffling of the men's feet wasn't helping. If I had to say, I would say these men looked like zombies—they had no personality as they marked single file back into the carrier of the massive helicopter.

I inched closer again resting my hands gently on the bush, the white haired man was starting to turn at one of the men who carried shards of broken glass—broken glass that had my blood on them. Slowly I winced, the white haired man looked around and as if on cue, he turned, looked right at me, and my eyes grew wide with terror.

Great… fucking great. I didn't move, maybe he wasn't looking at me, but his deep blue eyes narrowed, and I knew without a doubt that he saw me. Instinctively, I burst to my feet, and I turned and ran. I had no idea where I was in the world, but there was only a slight shout out as I burst out of sight and into the deep woods. For at least three miles I ran, not because I had to after the first mile, but because there was the lingering feeling that they might still be trying to find me. Fear pushed me through the trees. I just got my freedom, they aren't taking it! I have no idea who they are, why should I take a chance that could forever ruin me?

So I ran, I ran without looking back, my knees were sore, but my back was worse. It felt like every muscle in my body was torn as I took to a slow jog in the midst of the dark forest, and eventually I started to a walk, and then a sluggish shuffle. My mind raced, who was Tricell, how did they know the facility was burning, was I really that close to town? If so, was there a road, was I missing something? I rubbed my red beard and threw my arms down. Nothing made sense anymore! My lungs felt like ice as I leaned against the nearest tree. Safe, I finally took the time to turn back and stare in the direction I came. The way was sloppy, there were broken branches, bushes bust open and there were the tiny holes that I know were made from tripping. But I was safe, at least for now.

I looked up and saw that the sky was beginning to lighten up, dawn was coming. I wanted to cry, to jump with joy, but instead I shut my eyes and smiled. It was so beautiful, dawn. I hadn't seen it in ten years… The sun that broke through the branches was welcoming. Slowly I opened my eyes again; surprised it felt like ten minutes ago it was night time… I sighed, because ten minutes ago it probably was. I had no sense of time, or direction. I laughed in spite of myself, I might not have known what direction I was going, but I knew where I was going… And somewhere along the way, I'd eventually get there. I smiled then tilted my head back and took in a deep breath.

That's when it hit me; a burning in my chest, the tightening in my stomach, and the spasm in my spine. I lurched forward and threw my hands on my knees. Vile came out of my mouth with one dry heave and I squeezed my eyes shut. _One._ I hunched forward again and grit my teeth. _Two._ The familiar light headedness came back. _Three._ My body started to shake, and I could feel every inch of my body starting to tear. _Four_. When I opened my eyes again everything had a yellow hue to it, I fell to my knees, my chest bulging, my teeth hurting. _Five._

"I'm…so… nngh…."

It was the last conscious thought I had before my entire being fell into utter darkness.

I couldn't say what truly caused this instability. I wasn't awake, In fact, all I could feel is the pulling of strings—I can barely hear, everything becomes a whisper, there is no pain, there's no torture or thought… There is simply the feeling of being empty. Empty mentally, physically, and socially, it felt like nothing. Every limb in my body had a mind of its own and all conscious thought was gone. The only insight I've had when I turn is the faint light that I see; one that dimly grows bigger and bigger each time I change. . .

There wasn't a way I could avoid this, there was little that could have been done. My body was in shock in more ways than one when I started running, and the adrenaline that pulsed through my veins threw me over the edge—I should have guessed that it would, but until I stopped running, I felt fine, better than fine. But I knew already, the consequences. This almost happened once when I first escaped, it almost happened again when I started fighting—and had the virus not been awake, my wounds wouldn't have started to heal; I knew that now. As much of a burden as it was, it helped save me this time, and I guess it decided it needed time outside, or maybe it was just my body that shit down, and let it take over. Inside my little box in my own mind, my very small conscious state could hear screaming and pounding three hundred miles away. It rang more like an echo… and as sleep began to call me… It eventually turned into silence.

Damn… I really screwed up this time.

**Author's Note: **This is kinda where I wanted to end this chapter because well.. adding more would have just kept it going, and going…and going, so I stopped, decided I'd let you all off with this! But there another update coming soon,:) Hope you're enjoying the story everyone! Again, no editor, but I feel like I've just gotten better at checking over things, but its less than likely. This was a little "twist" I guess I could say to move me into the next few chapters. I honestly didn't know how to get Steve through the forest. "He walked, walked, got to the city, yaadaa taadaa" So I decided I'd make it a bit more interesting. :) Hope to see you all next chapter!


	8. Chapter 8

**HEY, here's a shout out! Resident Evil: Operation Raccoon city is coming out soon! If someone is going to be playing give me a message and we can totally go waste stuff together! **

**Chapter 8, Only Lonely…**

When I woke up everything was a haze. My eyes weren't the first thing that set my senses buzzing—in fact, it was the smell of blood. Iron everywhere, everything covered, I could taste it in my mouth, feel it on my skin. I jolted up without looking until slowly my eyes woke. It was at least noon now and the sun was beating on my back. I looked down.

I was amazed to see I was naked, among other things, covered in blood; just attacked some camper.

_Fuck._

The campground looked to be a simple popup tent, a small burnt out fire in the corner and a single chair. Clothes were shredded everywhere, remains of a sleeping bag were torn up and the pop up tent… looked more like tattered sheets. I gulped and grabbed my head. Everything was spinning; the entire world was covered in a purple haze.

Panic filled me and I threw my head into my palms and grit my teeth. Of all the stupid mistakes I've ever made! This could be the worst—I just got out of prison, there was possible threats following me that knew I escaped and I go and rip some poor camper into yesterday's scrambled eggs. Tears budded out from the corners of my eyes but I swiped them away and clutched my scraggly red hair. It wasn't my fault. My legs instinctively pulled up to my chest and I huddled my head between them.

My name is Steve Burnside, I am from Alberta Canada. My dad loved working on cars and my mom baked cookies every Sunday evening. I inhaled, and then exhaled slowly. The first girl I dated was my neighbor down the street, and I used to sit around and read comic books when I wasn't with my friends. I used to skate and I was a part of my high school's track team. I never won a match but I often pretended that I should have. I graduated when I was eighteen, my parents moved to Boston when I was twenty. I started to shake, the tears disappearing as my breathing became normal. At the time it wasn't apparent that these were all lies, nor the fact that I couldn't even recite the old list I made myself. My routine died like the rest of the living organisms in that building.

This was new, I was starting fresh—and if I started fresh before, I could do it again… I wasn't in control when this poor camper lost his or her life; it was my virus… my god damn disease that I had no control over at the time—this was bound to happen eventually, why not let it be now? Now before I get into real civilization, before I could really injure someone.

My resolve returned and once again I exhaled, slowly, smoothly—calmly. I looked up at the campground, it wasn't as bad as I first saw it, there wasn't as much blood on my skin and I could see the pieces of flesh and limbs sticking out from the tent. I rose to my feet slowly, but with more strength now than what I had before. I ruffled my hair and tore my gaze away from the body. I used my arm to wipe my mouth and sighed. Now that I've eaten, I don't feel much of anything aside from the pounding in my head.

Gazing around the rest of the campsite I could easily see that this person was camping on a trail. Following the trail would lead me to civilization—or it could lead me right into the police's arms for the death of this man or woman. Tension rose behind my neck and I stumbled slowly to the tent; I slowly crawled into the tent. It wasn't as bad as it look. Aside from the dead person there wasn't too much blood, and by the looks of it the man didn't die right away either. His throat was torn out and I grabbed my forehead in agony. What in the world did I do? It's no wonder they left me in a cage. Once again I tried reasoning, this isn't my fault. I wasn't the one that injected the virus, and I wasn't the one that did the testing's to prove me liable to live. I wasn't the one that killed this man. They did it.

I inhaled once again. He looked to be in his forties. He didn't have a whole lot of white hair; I gulped and leaned down snatching his arm and carefully, I checked his pulse. To my emptiness, there wasn't one. If I believed in prayers, I would have given him one now—but I wasn't a preacher. Instead I reached above him in order to grab his duffle bag; sorry sir, I need to borrow some clothes. I justified this with the fact that he won't need them again. As I reached for them though a loud gasping noise rose from underneath me and the man's eyes struck open.

What the hell... My mind flashed for reasons. I know he was dead, I just checked his pulse. It didn't take too long for me to notice what happened. This man had resurrected from the dead. His arms reached up for my chest as fast as they could but I bounced back and away from him impulsively, tumbling into a side of the tent that wasn't torn open. I was sitting now, and quickly inching for the tent door. He was sitting up, his movements were slow and rustic at first and he looked like all his joints were broken with his arms out stretched. He was crawling toward me by the time I flipped myself back outside with a backwards summersault. I jolted to my feet with a nasty curse and looked around the campsite; the only weapon was a shovel some distance away, it beat the glass I had to fight Linda with.

I took one glance at the incoming zombie, and then another at the shovel. He was still working his way out of the tent when I decided my best odds were the shovel. Quickly I snatched it, hoisted it up to my chest, and turned. But much to my demise—the old man was right behind me when I turned. Had he ran? My eyes open wide and I bumped backwards, using the shovel as a brace to keep his face away from mine. He reached for me in a flesh needing way. I wonder if that's what I looked like when I took his life, or did I just kill him in his sleep? I pressed the shovel against his chest while his fingers and teeth snapped at me. He was like a rapid dog, his fingernails racking over my skin. I hesitated.

His eyes were like dust, glaze over them as if there was a curtain—I couldn't see my reflection in them. The only image that reflected there was his need to feed. Gulping, I finally mustered enough strength to throw the zombie off me. He stumbled back and that's when I see it. He_ is_ running, because when he hit the ground, he didn't stay there for long. He was up and back on his feet and ready to charge before I even had time to compute what was happening. Already he approached me again but this time I was ready and used the shovel's sharp end to take his head off. In one movement his entire head was dismembered from his body, and it flew into the air and crashed like a marble. I gasped as blood splattered onto my face. It wasn't as pleasing when I wasn't starving to death, in fact, it was a bit revolting. I shut my eyes.

Nothing was clicking—the fact that I just killed a monster from my past, the fact that I created it. Nothing, I felt empty. How could this happen? I shouldn't have reacted how I did, I should have gained control. I can control the virus—why didn't I? The fact that I needed to feed and that I was tired was no excuse. All my wounds were healed now; I should have taken control when that happened. Everything I touch I'm ruining! I clench and then unclench my fists then looked at the dead man and his head. His body was now limp on the forest floor and his head just a few inches away. I needed to sterilize the area…something else could catch this.

I spent the next few hours digging a hole. I threw everything that the man owned inside of the hole aside from a pair of jeans, a flannel shirt, and lighter fluid and matches. The last thing I threw in there was him, I did the deed with little remorse and little thought. The more I tried the think about it, the closer I was to throwing myself into the pit with him. I used the shovel to dig up parts of the soil where is blood hit and placed it into the hole as well. I wasn't sure if that would help, but I prayed it would rain soon and wash this all away.

I began spraying the man and his belongings with lighter fluid. Within moments, it was all I could smell. The cloths I stole were off to the side, and I set the lighter fluid on top of them before lighting the match. I choked, and against my will, every will and my sanity, tears spilled down my cheeks.

"I'm so sorry." It was all I could mutter. There was so much more that I wanted to say, but I couldn't bear speaking them; I didn't deserve it, I killed this man, this man who probably had kids, who probably lived a full and decent life. I killed him in cold blood all for my escape. I felt lower than dirt, it was worse than when I killed Linda in the Lab. This man was innocent. I bite my lip until blood trickled down my chin, and then I lit, and dropped a match. It didn't take long for the body to start burning, and in three to four hours, there would be nothing left but bones and ashes.

I wanted to scream, to yell, to stomp my feet and cry, but I scratched away my tears and pressed the lighter fluid against my skin to wash away the smell of blood and to sanitize myself. The welts of tears left stains down my cheeks and I knew that without seeing... My cheeks burned.

For a few moments I watched the fire erupt in blazes of glory, the smell was intoxicating—in the bad way and I found myself shaking when I came back to reality. I couldn't take this anymore. I snatched up the clothes and started to pull them on as I walked down the trail. I was about half way down when a small rock in lodged itself into my foot. Instinctively, I winced, but didn't stop. I should have brought a pair of shoes.

Hours passed before the smell of gasoline fell away from my body and was instead replaced by the smell of my body odor. I'm so glad I worked out when I was in prison, or this could have been a dangerous hike. There were rocks to climb, streams to jump over (In which I washed more than once in) and hills to climb. For the most part I was heading downward, and on some taller hills I could see the tops of buildings. I was dead straight for civilization.

My gut turned at the thought of seeing actual humans again. It's been so long I wouldn't know how to act around them. What if I had another incident like I did in the mountains? It wasn't easy to cover it up in the middle of the street like it was there. I gulped, I felt guilty about covering it up—but I was even more scared, scared of the result. My hands shook as I leapt over a small crater in the middle of the trail. I'd be spending life in a new prison if someone ever found out, but maybe this guy went out to die anyways? Maybe he was older than I thought he was…maybe I did him a favor? My thoughts swirled through my head like shotgun shells. Excuses, I could only make excuses—and there were none. I began chewing on my lip again and sighed; I stumbled, tripped, then got back up without even realizing what was going on. I kept taking one step forward, trying to keep my mind off of the man in the mountains. I spent about ten years in prison…I didn't want to spend even more there. It was an accident. I wasn't responsible for it, it wasn't me. It was _it._

Denial, great, that's just another attractive quality I want to add to my list of things about Steve! I shook my head, removing myself from the thought. Only after I tore myself away from my thoughts did I see it.

It wasn't a paved road, but there was a sign that read "Welcome back to Harrisburg." It was then that everything started sinking in. It was the same realization I felt when I was left alone at the facility. I felt empty, and everything I did on my way here rushed back at me like daggers.

I inhaled.

What was I doing, really? I fell to my knees in a tumble and scratched at my clothes. What was I doing?

_What was I doing?_

**Author's Note: **Whew, fastest update ever? I'd like to think so! So…. Yeah, this chapter kind of made me teary eyed. I feel like I made this chapter a stretch—but in my mind it made sense and I needed it for Steve to grow a little more, or for something else—I dunno, felt like it needed to happen! I hope you all enjoy the chapter, and I hope I'll see everyone next chapter as well!

No idea if Harrisburg is an actual city, BUT for the sake of the story, let's all say it's fictional, just like most of RE. |D


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note:** SHOUT OUT to a few people that reviewed this story and gave feedback even though it's almost a year old. These people are Anna's Rebellion, Lily, XxXEnvyXxX, and everyone else who have followed this story! I'm so sorry for the late update, I've truly been very busy, I recently got in a wreck and jacked up my arm and then sports season started. Schedule literally turned into school-practice-homework-sleep-but school is almost out! So I'm going to try this Bi-weekly updating thing, maybe sooner, but I swear to all you loyal readers that I will have a chapter out bi-weekly from now on, scouts honor!

I really love all my reviews, you guys are my inspiration to finish this story-not only that. I'm a bit curious to see how it'll wind up myself. :) Love you guys! 3

**Chapter 9. No One Knows...**

I spent the evening huddled in the shrub of a tree. No police or mountain rangers or any of the sort came up the mountain path. I assumed no one reported that poor old man was missing. How long did it take until someone realized that they needed to send a missing person report again? 8, 12, 24, 48 hours? Did they change it? I can't remember anymore... I ran my fingers through my hair and tucked my knees closer to my chest staring through the bushes and into the city landscape. Mediocre in size, the city looked like a farming portion-the smell as well.. Cow manure laid in patches on overgrown patches of grass. In the distance, I could still see tall buildings and numerous lights out past the expanded fence lines, and I could especially see the little dirt road, that laid only inches away, taunting me.

The smell of manure and farm animals was revolting. I covered my nose with the sleeve of 'my' flannel shirt and grit my teeth. I escape, turn into a tyrant, kill a man, get away with it and sit next to a pasture of cow feces. I had it made. My life was one to be jealous over.

Why now, of all times to break down? I made my decision to move on, I couldn't take back that man's death-attempting to would put me at the same level as Umbrella and the rest of those pharmaceutical companies that so easily screwed me over. Aside from simply that, I wasn't smart enough, either. I let my arms slide down from clenching my legs, to the ends of my feet.

_Inhale, exhale._ I breathe like a human, I sound like a human... so why don't I feel... I slap my forehead and shake the idea from my head. I glance down at my hands. I am human, I have five fingers on each hand, fives toes on each foot, ears, nose, eyes and a mouth; a face. Human.

Murder; that wasn't human, that was a monster... that was my better half. In spite of everything that happened, I smirked. Man, Steve, you have a way of classifying things—what's next, giving names to all my digits. I rubbed my face and leaned back, the air was cooling, it was almost night fall by the time I could function again. Behind the rickety old farm path, I could see the trails of red dancing in the sky—it's been so long since I have seen a sunset, I almost forgot what it looked like. Initially, I muttered, tugged at my stolen clothes and then rose to my feet.

Yes, there was a lot that I could not fix, repent for, or change—but that man's murder was not my doing... it was his, this thing that lives inside of me; my disease. I am innocent...but nothing could take back the fact that I covered up a murder. Denial is what will take place now. Wasn't there a rule against that? Denial, that is. I shook it off, literally swaying my arms side to side to adjust myself. My whole body was numb from the trip down the mountain, I hummed to myself, cutting out the relation in my mind to the ground before me. Baby steps and I'd eventually turn over a leaf, I mean on Rockfort-I technically killed many people... the dead walking, sure.. but.

"STOP!" I yelled at myself, hitting the tree with a stone hand. baby steps, stop thinking. Just move. The echo of my sullen voice danced between the leaves behind me, I covered my ears.

It was cold, crisp and damp—sweat bled down my face, and I wiped it with that man's sleeves, my stomach lurched, my body shook. Typically, I'd be on the ground praying that I wouldn't change, but it was all too easy to see right now that it wasn't the virus that was trying to eat me now... it was society—the threat of entering into it again, rather.

Slowly but surely, I moved one foot ahead; staying on this path would ensure a quicker death, actually, it would set me up for failure because I would be the closet when the body is found. Not to mention the fire that beheld that abandoned Umbrella facility, if there was no one here yet, there would be soon. There is no safe place to hide anymore, I need to leave here. And if that means running away was the only option; I have to do it, I had to find Claire, and have to see her. Once I am a few miles away from this mess, I will make an anonymous phone call to this area... report the accident.

...But it felt so wrong. I shut my eyes and started walking faster, it was easier not to look at what I was leaving behind because if I could not see what was left there I wasn't really running away. I was being smart. I spent too long in a cage to forget why I got out. I have people waiting for me, I have a life to live—hell if the moment called for it; I have 'friends' I need to pay back for the countless hours of torture.

It was easier now. Four, five steps away, the lurching in my stomach stopped, the idea of ending all traces of the virus soothed my guilt; I would find whatever caused my virus, and I'd find the antidote. I couldn't take back the life of this poor man that I—it killed in my absence, but I could stop it from ever happening again. It would just take one step at a time. Just... like... now.

When I reopened my eyes, the light was nearly gone the sun had set, and I missed its beauty. As everything else, I ruined the perfect moment. I gulped and shook, better not to get all emotional over something I might not see again tomorrow, which is why I should have seen it tonight. The smell of the farm grew stronger the closer I got to it, I was glad I wasn't raised in a farm, this smell might not ever get out of my hair, or my clothes for that matter.

"There he is!" it was a hiss, a very soft, barely audible hiss carried with the breeze. The wind was picking up with the sudden shift in the lunar cycle. It was a moonless night, always fun; the only light was the stars. I glanced up, then toward the woods that I came out of. The faint shine of flashlights brimmed through branches.

"Shit! They did follow me; they must have already found the body..." With a deep paranoia, I jolted, ducked behind a fence and then crouched into the safety of a low shadow provided by a large barn house. Right, never saw the keeper put the animals away.

Heavy breathing followed the pursuit of the moving animal and I stood up, my red hair was like a beacon, I saw the shadows in the forest dancing around, and when they erupted from the side there was a small boy waving a flashlight around and a few friends behind him. They were yelling. Which relieved me…they were just kids playing. I was that kid once, a grin tugged at my cheeks, I used to have fun. I released a sigh, wiping my hand through my hair; a coat of sweat covered it. I was shaking and nervous still, probably pale, and feverish. From beside me, the animal hidden in the barn trailed out. It was a huge, old stallion. Its brown coat was well taken care of, brushed, and his shoes were brown. I flinched instinctively, believing the animal would be hostile to me, but instead, it merely looked through dark beady eyes, pleading eyes. I felt the tenseness in my body release and furrowed my brows.

The animal made no movement toward my person; instead it lingered at me, staring into my eyes, almost reading me. He looked so sad, as if someone close to him passed away. It was a slap in the face, a sudden realization, my stomach sank ten miles a second and I turned and ran from the pin, hopping a wooden fence and heading behind the barn.

The smell of puke isn't forgettable, especially when what is seen in it isn't anything that was eaten recently. Pieces of undigested flesh, organs, body parts. I gagged again, held my mouth and then turned back at the horse.

"What do you want?" I screamed, tears swelling in my eyes. "I didn't mean too! It wasn't my fault! It wasn't!"

The horse neighed at me taking steps back because of my outbursts. Attention gathered around me now, those kids flung their lights in my direction. "You're not mister Jenkins! What are you doing by his house!" They taunted me from a distance, rushing to my person.

Oh no, oh no, that's great Steve, look what you did! Knock this off. Tears rolled down my cheeks, and a searing cramp erupted in my bosom. No Steve, this isn't how it's done, stop it. Her voice echoed through my head, _No Steve!_ I hunched over, groaning in pain. Puke streamed with blood, my nostrils flared as the scent of human rushed toward me. Boiling blood, rush of a heart beat.

"NO! STAY BACK!" I yelled toward the children, and with any control I had, I slammed my fists into the barn, hiding my face from the light and took off running into the distance. I felt the change coming already, my muscles tightened, but no, not now, not kids. Never children-never innocence of a child. I leaned forward as I ran, feeling my shirt wrap around me tighter, my chest growing, the flannel tearing. No Steve. Vein's pulsing through my neck, my salty tears falling onto the ground as I ran. I was a wreck. I shouldn't have rushed or pushed myself. Steve, you're a genius, I should consider it more.

The wind whipped my hair back, the frailness of laughter turned into shriek screams of terror. Make it stop, I don't deserve this.

I was moving in the opposite direction, I should be safe...Time and time again the black outs grow nearer-closer... I collapse, onto the ground. Foam gurgling from my mouth, eyes covered in a fine purple haze. What was happening... this wasn't a change. My head throbbed uncontrollably as I attempted to reach for it, finding it useless as my arms were pinned down.

"I GOT 'EM!" My body was cold and numb. Great... Beaten by the young.

**Author's Note: **I have this trend where I like to make Steve pass out at the end of all my chapters... He wasn't totally out at this one though... Anyways, Going to start the next Chapter immediately to see if I can bust it out in time for edits and a two day update. Sorry for the beginning, I wrote this all at different times. 1/4th of the chapter was written in October, 1/2 of the story was written in early January (Hence the Angst) And the last 1/4th was written right now. It's a little of a rush chapter, I like the horse moment, I ought to draw it... I hope to edit it later, still need to edit chapter six too... Not sure what I was thinking when I wrote that but terrible grammar is terrible. Haha, R&R see you all soon 3 :)

Anyone play Resident Evil: Operation Raccoon City? If you do, hit me up let's play together. :D


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10. To be defeated...

What am I doing? Who am I kidding? I never left that cage...

_What the hell is going on. I'm standing at the corner of the street in my hometown, a skateboard rested beside me as hunched next to the wall. Playful laughter bounced around me in abundance. I looked up to the street sign. _

_"267 South Main!" A voice trailed behind me. "Man, this place is lame! Why are you hanging out over here? Aren't you tired of this place old coot!" I clenched my fingers while my face turned naturally to the boy approaching me. He wore a pair of faded overalls, messy blonde hair. A huge grin-I can't remember his name. _

_ "Yeah man... Right in front of that rich person store, seen some nice looking ladies walking out of there. Was thinking of swaying some of them off their feet, eh." A young voice, coated in a thick Canadian accent rose between my lips. My lips curled into a smile as I hugged the other boy._

_ "I know you and Jennifer been going out for awhile, stop messing with me, eh." He laughed it off while picking up the odd skateboard. "What are you really doing here man, haven't you out grown wishing for things you can't have? You belong back at home helping your dad with mechanics on his day's off." _

_ I laugh, a boyish laugh and cluck my feet on the ground. "Can't help feeling I'm going to miss this someday... Sitting around... Aimlessly wandering the streets." I smirked and snatch my skateboard from his hands and start walking back._ Sheepishly unaware of what was about to go wrong... So naive.

_"Dad...What's going on? Who are these people?"_

_"...Dad, where's mom, why is the house a mess."_

_"DAD, What are you doing! Put the gun down, just give them what they want!"_

_"He didn't do it, he didn't do it, Mom! Don't hurt her! Dad tell them!"_

_"Stop it... I haven't done anything wrong..."_

"Everything's such a blur..." I awoke to the sound of my own deep voice breaking the silence of a brightly colored room. The walls were painted in a thick uneven tone of white, and I was strapped down onto an uncomfortable bed. I look to the left of me, there's a familiar tray rested next to me with 'carving tools' and an oxygen tank. To the right of me a plain wall with a little plant in the corner of the room and a small metallic tray. I raised my head to look straight, and a single door was in front of me, the window opened up so I could see into the white hallway.

Not a single scratch on me to represent my journey... the clothes I had on, that man's clothes..they were gone.. I was in a white gown, the ones they used to put the lesser tests in. I edge a smile, and my eyes cramp up. I throw my head back onto the firm pillow behind me. I knew it; it was too good to be true. Everything that happened to me never happened, I never left the confinements of this base... I'll be here forever. I release a sigh, almost in thankfulness.

If I'm here, awake-it means I never killed that man. The higher-ups probably put me in a comatose state in order to move me from my cell... I never killed Linda, I forgot about her, crazy intentionally dying lady. I could feel an IV in my right arm, and I nudged, trying to move. I can restart, leave the base as I should have a long time ago. I have that courage now, right? Or will they shoot me?

Relief washed over me, no dead man, no dead woman, no men chasing after me. I was safe. I was safe at home in the threshold of Umbrella. Always safe and sound, unable to hurt anyone.

I heard the door creak open with a loud hiss, and I leaned up, narrowing my eyes. It was a small white female with brown hair cut like a pixie. Her frame was small, and she was clothed in a doctors outfit.

"Claire?" I muttered incoherently, hoping somehow she came to rescue me. She didn't forget me. The scientist smiled at me, pulled up a face mask and threw on some gloves.

"They told me you were cutting in and out of consciousness." She looked over at me, her blue eyes gazed at me-she was so pretty, I could tell she was smiling at me behind her mask. "You were gettin' so loud in the other room we had to move you in here. Couldn't have you disturbing the rest of the patients. " She winked at me and then turned back around. She opened a nearly invisible cabinet and pulled out popsicle sticks and q-tips.

"Why does it matter... you're just going to cut them open anyways." My voice trailed lowly, my eyebrow twitched. Quickly, the doctor whipped around, and glared at me, as if she didn't understand. I knew their game. Mine was up, they're going to cut me up and use my parts to create a great tyrant. This is what Umbrella did.

"Excuse me? You're lucky we didn't have to cut into you-We weren't sure what was wrong, turns out you just had an allergic reaction to some plants. You were so scratched up when we finally got you here." _What?_

"Is this some kind of joke?" I snarled, angrily, pushing against my restraints. She didn't jump, she wasn't startled by my jolt.

"You were also swinging your arms around. Knocked over a set of flowers and a lamp. got a huge cut in your right hand because of it." She mumbled at me, and then towered over me while holding a popsicle stick.

"You might be a little dazed, but say 'ahh", I got some final check ups to give you and then we have to take you down to the office for some questioning." She trailed off and I naturally opened my mouth for examination as I have many times at facilities. She might have noticed the confused look on my face, because she sighed and took her gloves off.

"The swelling is gone, your fever and aches seem to have disappeared. You're completely normal." I shook my head, my mouth stretched for words. "I'll call the boys in here to get these restraints off of you, you're still a bit stressed. Would you like to rest a little more?" Her concern seemed natural as she tossed her gloves into the trash and removed her mask.

"Are you a doctor?" The words escaped before I could haul them back; my face flushed, embarrassed at my words but I couldn't stumble enough syllables out to form another sentence. She laughed at me, a cheeky laugh and nodded.

"I guess you are still a bit shaken up. Do you not know where you are?" _So is that a yes?_ I couldn't stop myself from examining the room again, the white walls suddenly seemed very elegant over this 'doctor's' smile. "I..just wanted to make sure is all. I'm in the hospital?" It was meant to be factual, but instead it came right off as a question. She nodded and dusted her hands.

"This is. But if you're okay, I think I'll bring the men in the office down here instead, I don't think you should be up yet." She muttered as she opened the door and them calmly walked away from me.

My brain poured out information in clumps, I had no idea what the fuck was going on. How did I wind up in a hospital? Let alone in a bed, away from scientist... They found me cut up-those kids... I was having problems remembering my last few conscious moments. The horse and the barn... Those kids. Oh god those kids. Not again-say it wasn't again. I choked back a lump, I could hear foot falls behind the door, a man knocked. I didn't respond.

I really killed a man. I'm going to prison, this is the police officer telling me that I'm going to prison. Worse-its Tricell, it's Umbrella, it's Wesker. I pull at my restraints, my energy gone. I can't get out, they have me medicated. I misssed my medications... They always made me feel so human. I calmed for a second, resting back on the bed and looking to the ceiling. But they're coming-I'm leaving, get out! I pull one last time, losing the binding around my right wrist just enough to wiggle my right hand out and then the door opened. I dropped my hand beside me, camouflaging the escape. I try to smile at the man, but I grimace instead.

He's wearing a gray suit, completed with a tie and a gray hat, his shoes squeak against the door and he holds a briefcase in his right hand. His face is clean shaven-mine is itchy. He pulls the metal chair from the corner, and sets it closer to my bed, and sets himself down.

"Good morning, did you sleep well?" His voice was husk, and his young appearance was tarnished by his deep voice. Up close I could see he had wrinkles next to his eyes, he slowly removed his hat. I couldn't stop starting, tongue tied at the worst possible times. He set his hat on his knee, and sighed. "Aren't going to talk much are you?" He gave me one last look, and I didn't have to reply, my eyes told him everything-I was just as lost as Alice when she fell into that hole at wonderland.

"Then I'll do the talking." He dusted his hat off and licked his lips. "Sir, I'll be blunt. We can't find any information on you, we are under the idea that you could be a terrorist infiltrating our country." he glanced up at me, watching to see if my eyes drifted-they didn't, I simply watched him. I was a what now?

"You seemed to have come out of nowhere. No identification, no social security number and no pictures matching your profile. Are you illegal? Nod or shake your head." I wiggled my tongue at the back of my clenched teeth, then shook my head no.

"Then sir, what is your name?" He glared right into my eyes, I limply gazed back. Good question-what is my name?

Claire Redfield... no, no... Steve... Steve what? sweat trailed down my head. I know my name, I do, I swear... I just don't think I should tell you.

"Ste.."I mumbled off, furrowing my eyebrows. "Steven." I finished weakly, the man smiled at me, tilted his head.

"Whats your last name?" _Burnside_. The response was integrated into my brain, Steve Burnside is my name. I twitched my lips, looked down at the door, then looked back at him, his glare never wavered. I tried my best to hide my lying; covering it with my confusion-which wasn't a lie.

"I...can't remember." I attempted, stuttering at first, I wanted to rub my face, but for all he knew I was still in restraints. The man sat back, opened his briefcase, dug through papers.

"I was afraid of this." He mumbled, shuffling through the papers. "I have a list of missing people cases. You were found on the farm that a Mr. William Jenkins lived on. Can you explain?" I wasn't sure where he was going with this, a gleam was in his eye through... hungry for a reward mister man?

"I was out in the forest and stumbled across it... I wasn't sure where I was or that it was Mr. Jenkins property..." The name of the old man nearly made me hurl again, I bit my lips and let my eyes drift to my right wrist.

"And how long were you out there?" He quickly belted out, excitedly. I shifted to look at him, adjusting my head.

"A few d-""Years, right!" With my sentence rudely interrupted, and his sudden need to stand up, I mumbled. "...sure."

"I knew it, William has been out in those woods constantly on the search, and your profile and age match the description we received ten years ago..." He gleamed at me, snarling, nearly.

"Does the name Jenkins sound familiar." My eyes narrowed, shoot... I guess I didn't have as long as I thought... he's talking about the man I killed... my lip curled a bit.

"yes." I added meekly, letting my shoulders fall, and head fall back. I wanted to ask why... but I didn't want an answer really. Just send me to prison-hell give me the death sentence, really it's all better then what I've been stuck with in the past.

"That's it! You're Steven Jenkins!"

"Wait, what?" My reaction was too instant, I looked fake-I knew it, I just blew my only safety net.

"You're Steven Jenkins! You've been got for almost twenty years. Wandering around in that forest, it's a miracle, we always called William crazy-but you, you survived. It has to make sense. you have red hair, you're about thirty now, and you have Williams crystal blue eyes." It's a good thing this cop is a dumb ass, or I might be in the slammer right now. I froze in my spot as he trailed off, continuing his rant about how he would be awarded for finally finding the missing "Steven Jenkins"

...Now I know there was some kind of higher power screwing with me. There absolutely had to be a joke. It was too convenient. And yet, it was perfect-I just have to roll with it long enough to leave town right? At least then I would have an Identification... The man was just looking in the wrong spot.. I have never been a United States citizen. I stopped, and drifted off into my own space as he continued to tell me bits about my life and of Mr. Jenkins that I felt rude for ignoring. How did I know I was in the United States in the first place? What if this was France, or Canada... no.. if it was Canada they would have found me on record. Unless Umbrella removed my record. My head was still buzzed from the pain medications. Did that mean I didn't exist anymore?

I laughed, which threw off the officers story. Did I ever exist for the last ten years? Really I've been considered missing for that long, if not presumed dead. I'm already gone... so taking the identify of another missing person...was that wrong? My chances were much better than a boy lost in the woods for ten years, his story was just hopeful thinking. Yet, after this could I still regain my old identity; better question, did I want to?

Steve Burnside the man who killed to escape his own entrapment. Killed an innocent old man, and then in his be legacy took the name of his son. Then he can at least rest in peace with the belief that His son was found and his trips to the mountains weren't in vain. Could I do that? Does it work like that, or does God know? By this time, I realized that the man had stopped talking; and against all moral code, and steadiness, I smiled at the man.

"I remember... I went missing so long ago... My dad, is he okay?" I asked sourly, and the officer nodded. "He's out looking for you right now. We'll send a party out tomorrow to find him." my thoughts snapped together, What did I just do. As soon as they find his remains, they'll know right away that I'm not his son, only a murderer. The rest of the town won't believe that I'm his son anyways. I gulped. I need to leave, and fast. Screw legacy-if I want to live...

Why did I want to live? Murder, my hands are painted red now because of my reactions to live... I'm so sorry William Jenkins... I hope someday you can forgive me, but I'm not ready to die-I can't die until I know Claire is safe. I don't know where she is now, or if she's safe. If I don't think I'm ready to live for myself anymore, at least let me live for her. I stopped, gazing toward the door, the officer grabbed out a picture from the briefcase, and placed his hat back on his head. Who was I talking to? I remember when I used to pray... when I was first brought to my hell I prayed every night... Who am I talking to...why am I... I smiled at him respectfully as he left, and then drifted back down into the softness of the hospital bed. Not the cold hard bed they used to put us on, but a neatly made bed, with white sheets ready to absorb all the care in the world.

The doctor who treated me earlier walked into the room, a deathly skeptical look I never thought could cross such a fairy looking face.

"Well, looks like you're free to go." She seethed at me, releasing my restraints and then smiling. "See you got out of one. You'll probably make headlines now that the FBI agrees you're Jenkins's son. I don't see it." She glared at me, her sweetness long gone, my hair raised unwillingly. She placed clothes on the edge of my bed and then stormed away. "Check out of the hospital at the front lobby. Good luck."

Before she left I caught a glimpse of her name tag, Coen. Remind me to stay away from that person, and all their relatives. But she had a point. I pushed back my emotions as far as possible, my remorse and my sorrow, and then dressed quickly. I ignored my bruises and my nicks, and my scars and tucked my shirt in. I was ready to leave. I combed back my hair with my fingers, and then ran my hand over my face. The heavy beard still rested on my face and I scratched it. I'm an old coot now, Mr. Jenkins. I promise I'll make this up to you. And then I left.

There was no one trying to stop me from walking out of the hospital, no one tried to grab me or whistle me away. Oddly enough, it was a clean walk from my room to the front desk. I still jumped when I saw people shuffling around me, and I smiled at the lady at the service desk. She shook her head at me, signed a few papers and handed them to me.

"Good Luck Steven." I seemed to be getting told that a lot lately. I turned toward the exit doors, holding my release papers-my blood type, my birthday, all my information. Mister Man must have filled everything out for me. Sometimes I'm glad that ignorance exists. So blissfully able to declare someone something without proper background check. I looked at the clock and smiled.

It read 2:57.

Step 1: Find out where I am, get tickets out of here as soon as possible. Jenkins Identity will only take me until tomorrow.

Step 2: Disguise, I'm going to need one as soon as I get that ticket for where ever I'm going, I need to have the back up to provide I won't be caught by the police.

Step 3: Baby Steps.

**Author's Note: ** I think in the last few chapters I've gotten away from how Steve was feeling and focused more on what he was doing-but I have trouble incorporating them both.. so this is a little tribute, to lost sleep, lost dreams, and even more Hand Grenades... OKAY, maybe not the Grenades. But here is how I progress. Some of you might not like the idea of him getting an "Identity" so easily, but honestly, with all the crap he's gone through, how could someone turn down the chance to be someone else who was lost for HE'S IN CIVILIZATION, EVERYONE PANIC!

Sorry I was studying for finals or this would have been out sooner :( Next chapter soon! :) Hopefully by Sunday!

Thanks for reading, 3 :)


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: **The reason this took so long for chapter 11 is… well… I have a life. Sadly, as much as I realize that sucks to my readers, I do have a life that I have to keep up with. I miss writing this though, and resident evil 6 comes out just a few days… so I kind of want to get this written out. I just saw the movie; hate those... They're so far from the game. Haha. Anyways, I've re-written this chapter a few times already, so this is the final of it. I'm going to try to update faster. I love this story, but I need to finish it someday, right? Haha.

Chapter 11 Hours.

How ironic it was to find her on a website. I never thought it would be this easy. I stare in amazement, my mouth a gap at the sudden rush of joy that pressed into my chest. Too easy, I told myself, reaching my right hand up to rub my blue eyes.

Too. Easy. I exit the webpage off. Reopen the browser, and then in the same search bar, re-enter her name, and wait. I scroll to the bottom of the page—and there it is in blue text "Claire Redfield is on Facebook."

How…Anti-climatic? Here I was thinking I would need to move onto an epic adventure full of tears and struggles… And then I was proven so wrong by today's world.

You see… After leaving the hospital this afternoon, I took a trip across town. Everything has changed so much that I literally have few words. Well… There's that and the fact that the library only asks its visitors to use "below inside voices". I almost took a bus to the hip, tried to skip through a sidewalk and into a street full of moving cars. Witnessed a strike near the hospital, and spoke once and only once the entire way here.

My hair still stood on its ends as I gleamed at the computer screen. She was still so beautiful, a portrait of her danced in front of my face, she had a few added wrinkles, laugh lines and her brown hair had a tint of red to it… But surely it was her. There was no mistaking that loving smile, and the way her blue eyes twinkled in the sunlight. My teeth began chattering, the woman I saw on the street on my way here had no resemblance after all. She was too young, preppy and although her eyes were blue, her hair brown. She was no Claire. Thanks for the directions though—I'd still be walking without you.

My feet hurt. The walk here was excruciating really. I jumped at stop lights, basked in the glory of "Cell phones" and learned all at once how crazy the world has become. Few people walked on the sidewalks, and many small businesses, which were strewn with people in Canada, lay empty. Cars changed so much, too. People's preferences, their voices and their cares, all different then what I left it as. The 21st century was scary. Looking at Claire was scary... Seeing her, it stole my very essence, I felt like nothing.

It took every muscle in my body to scroll the mouse wheel down through the page. Nothing on her page was empty. There was camping pictures on the front of the page—A brown haired man standing ferociously next to a grumpy looking blonde man. Claire was off to the side next to a lovely looking woman who looked to be in her late thirties. Her hair was cut short and tucked off to the side. Underneath the picture was a label that read "Camping vacation! I love these guys :)". She was sweet. It was easy to see who see cared about in this world. I grit my teeth, and clicked the picture; it shut me out though, telling me that I needed to make an account and that I needed to be her friend to browse further.

Quickly, I backspaced, and although I could stand here in ecstasy over her picture, I could also be getting her address and leaving. In all reality, I had 24 hours to leave this new city I've found peace in. Thoughts raved in my mind about how I could make an account on here, message her, and then leave... but that would take too much time. I scrolled back to the top of the page, and clicked the "more info" button located by her marital status, which said single, and her hometown, and it led me to another page that had many facts about Claire. Her music, quotes, likes and disliked. I bit my lip but focused my task on finding where she lived now. It would be so easy to stalk her on here, why do people put so much information out in the open? Doesn't she know Umbrella could be after her?

"Hallburgh, Pennsylvania"

My eyes stung like fire. I repeated it several times before whipping my head away from the glow of the computer screen. Hallburgh. Another big city? Really Claire? I turn back at the screen and then against all knowing power, I exited the screen off, pulled up another internet and exhaled. I badly wanted to go back to that "Facebook" page again, and see Claire and skim her amazing adventures. But I had 24 hours. I skipped to the clock at the bottom right of the screen, and then began typing into the Google search bar again. I wasted an hour looking at her beautiful face.

"Hallburgh" Was my next question for the vast information box. Locations from all around the world simmered up and I shook my head. My body in shock, something clicked in my mind. Identification.

Steve Burnside.

YES! I typed my named into the search engine… and there were many Steve's in the world, in fact, I took up a few pages... but there was none from Alberta. No missing labels, nothing. My heart sank. Umbrella probably wiped my name, and my Family's name right off the face of the earth. I hang my head. It's okay though because right now I'm not Steve. Right now I'm that man's son. Back from the dead. A thought plays in my head as I push out from my seat and exit everything that was up on the computer off. They might follow me. They can track where I'm going on these computers... finger prints, too. Tricell or umbrella or whatever killed that giant worm monster won't leave me alone out here. I'm too dangerous.

They'll start with computers, witnesses to where I have been. I look at the computer, lean in, and then gently rip the side off of it. No one pays attention to me, they stare at their own computers lifelessly; I yank the final side of it off before realizing that I should unplug it. I rip the plug from the wall, tear out the internet cord, look up to see if anyone has noticed, and then rip apart the inside of the computer. I just pulled at random things, anything that looked important. But I really didn't know what did what. So, I guessed, and when I finished, the room was still silent. A boy next to me was eyeing me suspiciously when I re-adjusted my back and then abruptly stood up; I smiled at him—or tried. "What year is it? What state am I in?"

The boy was confused to say the least, bemused at my questions he laughs. "2011 and you're in Oklahoma." I drop my shoulders.

…What? 2011? It's been 13 years? I'm 30? I snicker at myself and then shake my head.

"Thanks" I remark and then rush out of the library and back into the busy streets, trying to be discreet. I hope I didn't endanger that boy by speaking with him. I'm in mid stride when the wheels in my head begin to turn. Words can't explain how amazing it feels to be in control of my own thoughts. The medicine those people kept me on turned me into a slug. Thinking hurt. Now it empowered me.

Step 1 to Plan A. Find Mr. Jenkins house and get any money, books, news papers and supplies. It's wrong, I know. But one way or another, I need to leave here, and soon. Clean up and shave, Change my appearance.

Step 2 to Plan A. Find a bus or train or plane out of this state. Wait, make that a bus. I won't need identification for that.

Step 3 to Plan A. Go immediately toward Hallburgh, Pennsylvania.

After that, I'll play it by ear. But I'll be far enough away from here that they won't even notice who I was anymore.

And If Plan A does not work… Plan B is to run away as fast as possible and for as long as possible. Maybe I'll get on the news… but first I need to leave.

You know what Steve. I say good luck to myself, so long as I play it safe and keep my head clear—I'll be fine. All I need to do is focus on the task at hand. I can take how weird the world has become into account later… right now I have to focus on Claire. If I start dwindling on the past again, I'm going to end up dead or in prison. Both would be bad in my case.


	12. Chapter 12

Author's Note: This chapters kind of long, sorry :o

Behind Blue Eyes Chapter 12, Show Through.

I'm using Mr. Jenkins son's name. I don't know where I, he, lives. So I search feebly for directions. I ask strangers passing by me, who usually snarl at me like I'm an alien. Occasionally some point me to a map. I end up getting even more lost when I look at maps. I was never a big city boy, but hell, I could learn to fly a plane—I can learn to read maps, too. Trying to be discreet I tore one of the maps off the bulletin board that it was on, and carried it around with me.

I'm looking for farm land, which was on the bottom right corner of the map, but the problem I was having was finding where I was located. I found the Library on the map. But by the time that I did I was already a few blocks away from it. I was never a boy scout, either. I run my hand through my long hair, a sign hangs above my head that reads Main Street, and I find it on the map; according to this, there were about sixteen main streets. I rub my temples and throw myself down onto a bench next to me, vigorously looking at the map again. The city was busy, but quiet, there weren't a lot of voices; just the sound of cars and people honking… it wasn't until sirens erupted from behind me that I jolted from my seat. My heart sank and I turned on my heels and dove into a small alleyway.

"They can't be on to me already…" I comment tiredly, but they drive by, and my shoulders drop, I have to stop being so jumpy. Right now, only a select few people know who I am. I can't risk blowing my disguise. I dust off my shoulders and gulp back a knot in my throat.

Honestly, this sucked. I didn't know anyone; I didn't have anyone to call. I couldn't even catch a taxi because I look so homeless even they don't trust me. The sun was behind the tallest of the buildings and cities weren't safe at night time. It didn't matter how mutated I was, I couldn't absorb a bullet… I stop and rub my chest gently as I step back into the warm sun that bounced off the sidewalks. Or could I? I have never been shot before... and I healed pretty fast when those shards of glass were plunged into me… I grunt, remembering the sharp pain and anger that followed and shook my head.

My stomach growled and I clapped my palm against it, knowing if I didn't eat soon, I'd begin to show symptoms of the virus again, especially since the last thing I ate was… The growling stopped abruptly due to my human side's disgust at the idea of eating _people_. Glad to know my human instincts still function. At the corner of my mouth I could still taste the bile I threw up after learning what I did to that man. I could hear the virus barking at me "This is the first person you've killed!" my conscience yelling and twisting my insides.

I pulled aside, leaned over by a trash can, and let all of the twisted feelings pour out through my mouth. I had nothing to throw up now, so acid bounced out and left my throat dry. I heard people behind me ask if I was okay, and I waved them off.

I rest my left hand against my knee and hunch over. Spitting, I wipe the sweat from my forehead. Great, now I was making myself sick. But why wouldn't I?

Fuck sake, STEVE, STOP! I yelled inside of my head and threw myself backwards, and onto my feet. I can't do this right now; it wasn't my fault that anything bad ever happened. I was just a poor kid stuck in a faculty I had no control over!

Then suddenly it hit me. Faculty, entrance, forest, ranch. I look at the map again. Then to where main street is. According to that, I was only three blocks away. I threw the map down; I didn't need it now that I saw where I needed to go. I took off in a sprint in the direction of the ranch where I first arrived in the city.

By the time my feet felt the most grass again, I could tell it was close to six or seven. They sent a search party out around noon. I could see flashlights blaring in the forest, yet, my focus remained on how shaky my legs became. Scared of people after living through a zombie infection; smooth, Steve. I moved in the direction of the lone ranch where that barn was. A few ranches were scattered around, but this one was very familiar… I guess once you kill someone, memories of them stay intact.

Within minutes I arrived at the front door, I dodged the barn completely. Wanting to avoid the saddened horse... I couldn't bear to see it suffer. Without a key I couldn't legally get into the house. So I rested my forehead against the door. Another thing was that I didn't want anyone to know that I was here… so I wrapped my hand under the sleeve of my shirt and then broke the door handle off. No fingerprints.

Crickets played in the background while a faint echo of the snapping metals chimed through the air. I shifted my weight a bit, glancing in all directions, and then gently pushed the door open. The house was dusty; unclean. But still smelled like someone had been in there. A warm aroma hung in the air. It was easy to see that this man was very homely... the loss of his son must have been tragic.

I close my eyes and rub my temple. Focus. I march into the living space leaving jarred shoe prints on the wooden floors. It had a log cabin feeling to it, the furniture was wooden and there were elk heads and the sort strung as decorations on the wall. I feel slightly threatened when I walk in... They all look so sad I shudder and turn down a darkened hallway. I use the same sleeve that I opened the door with to turn on a light, but the power was out. He must not have paid an electricity bill.

My thoughts replay the hallways at Rockfort Island, dark and dreary. Nearly endless. I remember the prison bunks hallways when I first escaped from my inmates… I had no idea what was happening back then, but I went to check on someone who was yelling… and well, found a rotten mouth full of teeth flying my way. I shudder and then take a few steps down the hall. This place isn't infected though. The infection ended. It didn't escape the island. The humans would be crushed if it had. I turn into a room, and with the sun now gone, it's dark. My night vision sinks in slowly. I rip the plaid shirt off my shoulders, and the darkness conceals my scars and pale skin. The air is humid, and moistens my skin slowly as I scrounge around the old man's room. I somehow grab a clean shirt and pants, and somehow manage to find a better pair of shoes.

I was kneeling in the closet when I heard the door slam shut. I wheel around and throw myself into the back of the closet. My eyes quickly scan the room, the moon dimly lights it up, and I see nothing. I shudder before scooping back up the clothes I threw onto the dusty floor and the boots and then head out of the room. Dotingly I check the hallway, but I don't scout it out. I hear nothing moving in the house, and with fear crumbling in my heart, the enhancements that the virus gave me flare. I wander a bit before crossing the restroom. There was a candle on the countertop where the sink was. I enter, shut the door behind me, and let the clothes I stole fall onto the ground. The mirror is darkened and I can't see my reflection aside from my glassy eyes looking back at me. I look away, and step towards the shower, stripping my pants and under garments off. This was dumb, if I didn't want my DNA to be in the house… but I haven't had a shower in nearly 11 years.

To say the least, my body was moving on its own. Muscle memory must last a long time because these showers were just like the ones at home. Unknowingly my hand extended to turn the shower handles. The water sprayed out and I dipped my head in first… I could honestly feel the dirt falling from my head. The sponge bath they usually give patients at the hospital can't clean as good as a shower can.

Slowly I scoot into the shower, careful not to touch anything but where the water would reach. At the very least the water could mess with the fingerprints enough that no one could read them. The water felt amazing. The gas must have still been on because it was warm. I shook my head in the water and slipped my hands and arms over some of my larger scars and dipped my head. I looked down at the moving water, and even though I could feel it sinking into the drain, I couldn't see anything. Steam rose from the water and I found myself smiling.

Even through my multiple scars, hair that fell to my shoulders and a beard that fell to my chest, through the sweat and the tears and the pain… I felt normal for the first time I eleven years. I body trembled at this fact, for the first time I didn't feel the disease pulling and grinding at my insides, telling me that I can't make it, and then I look up. The water splashing into my eyes, but I don't' shut them.

I feel like I can actually survive this ordeal for the first time since being thrown into prison so many years ago.

It didn't take long for me to get out of the shower after that, it would have been nice to be able to stay in that moment forever, but I was running on short notice. I jump from the shower and snatch a towel. I wipe it through my hair and then wrap it around my waist. Be approaching the mirror. I patted around the countertop until my hand fell over a similar elongated cylinder shape. I flicked it, and a flame erupted from its body. I pressed the lighter against the wick of the candle, and the flame brightened the room just enough.

I could see myself clearly for the first time, not in a window reflection or in an old picture—just myself, old and rustic looking. I laugh at my appearance. I looked like that old guy form the karate kid... just without the white hair, dark skin and well... being Asian... Okay, maybe I didn't look like him. I lean forward, looking at my face. I have very faint wrinkles. I guess being in a cell was decent for my skin, but in reality I can't see much past my overgrown, un-trimmed beard. Doesn't help that the lighting was fairly bad. I look in the cabinet above the toilet and find a razor in there. I need to change my appearance just in case I am caught. They haven't taken any pictures of me so they can only go off the description the hospital can give people. Red haired bearded man in beaten up clothes.

So... Let's give them something else to look for.

The night is rather damp today, it's clouding up above my head and the moon is blotched out. By this time my night senses have adjusted and I can see decently. It's probably close to eight now, that gives me the cover of darkness. The city as quieted down a lot since I was last outside, and the lights in the forest have increased. They must know something is slightly wrong by now if they haven't seen Mr. Jenkins... That, or they've already found the wreck and they're trying to sort it out now. I hop down from the porch and jump the wooden fence to the barn. A brown bag is slung over my shoulder, I have the clothes I wore previously in there and some supplies and money for travel. This man didn't have much.

I'm in a hurry so I only stop at the barn for a moment; the horse is seated at the far end of the barn. There are no other animals in there. I approach it slowly, it doesn't flee or act like it will hurt me, so I extend my hand to pet the white spot on its nose. It leaned into my touch, and neighed at me sadly. It felt skinny and cold to my touch, but it allowed me to pet it, and I don't want it to starve. I grab a bundle of hay from over one of the fences and throw it beside the horse. It stands awkwardly and then walks over to it, eating it slowly. His food source ran out while his rider was gone. I frown before patting its head again; I rest my head against the spot between his eyes and whisper to the animal. "I'm so sorry."

When I reach the outskirts of the city again, I'm at a bus stop. There was a big lighted box to represent where it was. And a neon sign was even larger. It was off the highway, and the bus would be here again in close to ten minutes. I guess I timed it just right. I move quickly into the bus seating station, and plop down on a bench closest to the door. I sink into the black jacket I was wearing and cross my legs. Inside the little station with me is a female that looks as if she ran away from home, a male drug addict and what appears to be his drug addicted wife or girlfriend. I slink closer to my corner of the bench and wait patiently for the bus.

The girl at the other end of the bench attempts to create conversation.

"So, red head, what are you running away from?" She asks timidly, the other two people look at my tiredly. They must have been surprised when my back straightens lightly, and my face that was hidden beneath a hood turned at them in the tiniest bit of confidence.

"I'm not running away from something, I'm running at it."

Beneath that rustic beard that I shaved off was a young man tormented through years of agony. Yet, for what could have been the first time in a very long time, a light flashed in his eyes so bright that he couldn't help the grin that danced onto his once pale face, and brought color to it. That was who I was right now.

**Author's Note:** Woo, Chapter 12, finally! About a week after the last one! Ha-ha. Or has it been two weeks? I'm not sure. Ha-ha. I liked this chapter; I think it was one of the happier ones. I thought it was about time that Steve started acting a slight happier. Haha. So. Yay, I played Resident Evil Six, and… well... I have to say, it's a huge step up from Operation Raccoon city and an even larger step up from Resident Evil 5! I'm about half way through Chris's storyline and I've finished Leon's already. Haha. I like the game. I mean, it's not as good as the originals in the series, but it's not awful like Resident Evil 5, either.

I wish Claire was in it though... :/ I sure wish she could be in a resident evil game again. Not just movies haha. OH, speaking of Claire, she'll be in the next chapter. Stay tuned? ;D


	13. Chapter 13

Behind Blue Eyes, Chapter 13:

"Hello? …Hello?" The voice was very sweet, but was laced with confusion and anger. On the other side of the line there was a ping a twist and then a groan. Fists slammed against a wooden desk. "Listen! I know you punks think it's funny to prank call me then breath in the phone, but I've shot down people before, I'm not afraid to pull guns out on you! Stop calling you insensitive pricks!"

I paused. "Claire...?"

There was a loud click when the phone was hung up. She didn't heart me. Obviously, people haven't been nice with the pranks. I fidget around; my eyes wide open, holding the phone up to my face-keeping the sound of her voice in my head. Angry or not, it was her voice. That was Claire's for sure. There was no mistaking it.

The payphone beeped and clicked at me to put it back, but I couldn't stop replaying what happened… I'm an idiot. What did I think was going to happen just now? I would come to Hallburgh and everything would fall into place? Claire doesn't know I'm alive, let alone contagious and roaming the streets as a fugitive. I have no idea what to say to her.

"Hey, I'm alive. No, I'm on the run from this weird umbrella like corporation! Yeah, I'm still infected, but it comes in short bursts; I'm perfectly safe on most occasions! I would love to come for dinner! I know isn't it great to hear from me again? Oh, by the way, since two days ago I'm also a wanted felon for killing an innocent man while I was in my viral stage, isn't this great!"

Pipe dreams Steve, Pipe dreams….

The bus ride over here was tedious and very tiring. I refused to sleep because I was worried that when I fell asleep someone would try to mug me or I might go into a virus related sleep which usually causes me to become oddly violent... To be honest, I was also worried that the radio would broadcast the murder of Mr. Jenkins and I would miss it. Luckily, I covered my tracks in the house very well. And luckily, with the amount of dirt in my hair, it didn't look as red as it does now. I look way older with my beard too... Clean shaven, I have a few advantages, I look younger. I glance at the window to see my reflection as much as possible. I'm actually pretty attractive for a guy who has been in a cage for almost thirteen years.

The first bus ride went smoothly, but by morning, as I was getting onto the next bus stop and then onto the next bus, was when the announcements came at about 8:45 a.m. via radio.

"Suspect is highly dangerous. He is in his early twenties, has shoulder length auburn hair, and a long unkempt beard. He was last seen wearing a torn up plaid shirt and blue jeans. He was released from the hospital on Tuesday afternoon and was due south. The suspect was last seen in a hurry to the ranching areas of the city. Upon arrival to the hospital his right hand was injured. If you see this man, contact the police immediately."

Thank god I heal fast. At first, I expected everyone to look at me when the announcement started, but my hair was redder than it was brown, and my face was clear of a beard, it didn't look like I had one at all. Plus my clothes were completely different… and the only evidence that showed people who I am was located in the bag beside me. Unwittingly I clenched onto it with my cold hands and tucked it under my arm. I shouldn't have left any DNA at Jenkins house-I poured bleach in the shower and everything I touched bare handedly I removed or placed bleach on, hopefully they can't trace me to the bus stations. By 3:00 p.m., the announcements stopped because I was far enough North that the information wasn't valid anymore. The bus was fairly empty, and I can understand why. There was gum stuck on and underneath the seats, it smelled like a dead body and rotten food; everyone here was sniveling. I kept to myself, and refused to associate or touch anyone. I know I had a virus, but god knew what _they_ had.

By the time we reached the outside of Hallburgh, two days passed. I didn't sleep a wink, so bags developed under my eyes. It poured waterfalls of rain from the sky for the second half of the trip. The bus driver smoked like a train and everyone was coughing.

Had I not been counting back from one million, I would have started having flashbacks of being in the lab room before they placed me in a test tube… See… I was literally dead for a while before the virus reactivated my cells. Though, by the time that my cells reactivated, I was already on my way to an Umbrella facility. A tall blonde haired man by the name of Wesker was talking to me, saying god knew what… and the people around him in white coats help clipboards and pens. I was chained to the wall, most likely to prevent me from ripping them to pieces; then there was a sharp pain and the next time I was awake I was in a cell full of sick people like this….and well….

Nine-thousand nine hundred and sixty three.

Nine thousand nine hundred and sixty two.

There was so much blood, but I wasn't in control of myself… That was before I could stably stay in a human state.

I reopen my eyes and see an old lady passing by me. My heart beats fast and I twitch and bare my teeth. One bite wouldn't-Stop. I shut my eyes again, clenched the bag harder, and started counting to ten when the bus came to sudden start. It began hydro planning, but eventually stopped. I got up from my seat, I thought something had happened, but the bus driver just turns at us and grins through rotten teeth.

"Here's your stop, ladies. Hallburgh. Leave your tips in the jar on your way out."

It was still storming heavily outside and I glared at him. Nobody moved aside from me. I stood up and glared at him. "You can't throw us out in this."

He raised his eyebrows at me. "It's either that, or you stay on, and I keep driving to the next city. I don't get paid to wait with punks like you."

I grit my teeth... I couldn't pay to come back from the next bus stop.. But if I get sick I have no idea what will happen. I groan and then holster my bag onto my shoulder again and stomp angrily off of the bus, a few people follow me but as soon as the rain touches them, they retreat back onto the bus. Most of those people have no destination, so staying on a bus a day longer won't do anything to them. I, on the other hand, would suffer some serious damage by staying another day. I walked to the bus stop, which was just a bench in the middle of the city, and then crashed on it, throwing my bag down on it beside me. The bus drove away.

The cleanliness that I felt from the shower was gone due to the rain.. But it was gone anyway because of the bus trips. I placed my arms beside me, and then titled my head back over the back of the bench and looked up at the falling rain.

"I should really find some shelter…" I mumble but rub my head and remain seated. I shut my eyes. I'm fucking tired man… Then all of a sudden the world spun for a moment, everything went black and the last thing I remember is the bag that I had clenched falling to the wet ground and my head falling on the wooden seat.

When I woke up at day break the rain had stopped. My clothes were still wet, and it was warm. I sat up begrudgingly, it was probably 6 a.m. People were moving again, unlike last night. Most likely, they were going to work. My mouth was dry and I rubbed my eyes. I'm such an idiot, sleeping in the open and in the rain… I look down and my bag is still there. I snatch it up and place it over my shoulder. That was when I saw the payphone aside the bench and, well… the phone call.

"Claire…"

Author's Note: She was in the chapter for a short time, he's spoken with her now; bonus, right? next chapter will have Claire in it officially and for good, I can't tell you more because it'll ruin the next chapter! :O

The story is about to get some friggin progress, stay tuned~


	14. Chapter 14

Behind Blue Eyes Chapter 14: Hours

This morning is a nightmare; honestly, there is too much to do. People keep leaving their items at my house; cluttering it like no other. I need to clean.. Yeah, no. I really, really did not want to wake up. Sleeping in one day wouldn't harm anyone… in fact, it would help me; deal breaker, right? I groaned and flipped over in my bed, throwing my sheets up over my head and burying my face in the pillow. Mornings suck. I haven't showered in past few days because life has been so hectic with people coming and going so much, so when my hands touch my hair I grimace and retract them to rest beneath my stomach. My hair feels like those nasty, cheap Halloween wigs.

I really, REALLY hated mornings.

The fact that people keep calling me doesn't help either. I poke one eye out from underneath my bedding, peek at the phone, and there are already 52 messages on there. I throw my head back onto my pillow and groan. No doubt it was more people wanting to know how I was doing. I have just been extremely busy these past few days—I wasn't dying, I didn't get kidnapped, I had somewhat of a life!

As if on cue, someone started to beat on the front door. CHRIST SAKE, was it impossible to get a few moments alone? Sadly, I had to collect myself—there could have been anyone at that door, from the CIA to my landlord. Begrudgingly I toss my blankets off; the brisk air does everything but help my aching muscles. I sit up awkwardly, and adjust my pajamas—wait, I'm not wearing pajamas.

Of course, I always forget to change my clothes, so I'm still in my jeans and shirt from yesterday. I rub my face; face hasn't been washed either. I feel so gross… Refusing to look at the floor I flip my legs off the side of my bed. My feet meet with mountains of clothing. My floor is nowhere to be seen; it's currently buried under my clothes—along with whatever was left of my dignity.

I shuffle around, getting balance by placing my hand on the dresser and then the knock comes three more times.

"I'm coming!" I scream at the visitor and rub my aching back. Getting old sucked—I should really consider taking a break here or there, I'm working too much as is, add old age, and well; short life, here I come! The knock comes again while I'm searching for a robe or something to cover up my dirty clothes. Yesterday I was helping the city with their fundraising for the BSAA, and it started to rain so I got muddy. I was so tired when I got home… well, I didn't say goodbye to anyone as I left, so obviously, I sure as hell didn't think about cleaning up.

I didn't want to see what my face looked like right now.

The knock comes again, and I'm frustrated so I throw the bundle of clothes I gathered while trying to find a robe back onto the floor. Who cares what I look like? Impatient bastards! I don't have to look decent.

"FUCK IT!" I shout expectantly and then stomp my way through my bedroom. I flick on all the lights as I exit into the Kitchen and then slam doors open as I walk to my front door. Without any hesitation I whip the door open, still brushing hair from my eye and wiping my face gently to get some dirt off.

"What?!" I shout ineptly, still rubbing the crust from my eyes before I look up and meet with the most sinister of grey eyes.

"Mr. Leon Fuckin' Scott Kennedy." A smile crosses my face. Suddenly, I wish I would have brushed my teeth—I bet that pizza I ate the night before hasn't came fully out yet.

"..Well, Ms. Claire Redfield…" He pauses, looks me up and down, and then dots his eyes behind me into my house, and then finally meets my blue eyes; and then nods curtly—I'm used to his mockery already, so I lean up against my door frame and frown at him.

"I love what you did to the place… New trend?" He asks with a smirk and then without my permission enters by pushing past me. Smoothly, he steps over a red leather jacket I had in front of my door and steps into the living room, which was almost equally as bad as my room. He makes a face like a grimace, but I shrug it off.

"You know, I like to keep up with the latest fashion… I heard dirt was in." I reply coyly while closing the door behind me. I faced him fully and run my hand through my dirty hair.

"…Didn't your brother call to say I was coming to get you this morning?" He turns at me; I can see his face is twisted with disgust as he sniffs the air around him. "You didn't want to pick up at least the tiniest bit?"

I can't help but laugh at him as I walk into the kitchen and grab a bowl off the table. it's macaroni salad that I left out from two nights ago—oops.

"Its last week's dinner, don't freak out about it. I'm rarely here, so I never clean. All I do when I get here is sleep." I shake the bowl at him and he takes a step back. Frickin' pretty boy doesn't want to take the chance of getting within an inch of this stuff. I don't blame him, it smells pretty rancid. I scoff at him trying to hold back a laugh.

"You faced mountains of zombies—and you still can't deal with rotten food. My, have you not changed." I remark sarcastically, but he simply dusts his shoulder off and rolls his eyes.

"I enjoy having personal hygiene… I can see that you relish it as much as you used to." He remarks sardonically but with a hint of worry in his eyes. I spin and face the trash can and then dump the salad into the bag. I release a sigh, I must look unbelievably tired.

"I just haven't had the time... been busy designing the fundraisers to get a BSAA facility placed here in Hallburgh… If things go well, next month I'll be down in Garcia City doing the same thing to raise awareness. It's never ending—So… hygiene isn't on my highest priority list." I pause; he probably wants to know why I'm so dirty _right now_ though. "Yesterday we almost lost half of our sales thanks to that rain storm that came through here. I spent nearly three hours digging in the dirt to find all the lost funds." As I'm cleaning off a chair for my guest, Leon comes up and pats me on the back. I hear him sigh and I look up to him to see him shaking his head at me.

"As you can tell… when I got home, I was way too tired to shower." I added sensitively and then pushed all of the grime off of a chair.

"You have to take care of yourself, too, Claire." Leon whispers into the chill morning aroma, I turn at him and genuinely smile. Standing firmly, I toss the rag that I cleaned with at him and wave to the seat as I side step away from the government agent.

"Your seat, your highness." He grunts at me, drops the rag like it was on fire and then sits down in a pout.

"Don't move from that spot! The trash might get up and eat you!" I _needed_ a shower.

Up until I entered my room I could hear the government man shuffling, trying to stay away from the mess—usually when he comes over he starts to clean. I think I've scarred some of his unlucky partners when they've come over… Poorpeople. I laugh inwardly and smile as I pull out a set of clean clothes from my closet and dresser. I have a bathroom connected to my bedroom, so as I enter I place my clothes on the sink and turn on the shower when the phone started to ring.

Leon likes to answer my phone…and he never does it right, so I jolt outside of the bathroom to grab the phone. "I GOT IT!" I yell boldly, I bet he is grunting right now because he doesn't have anything to take his mind off of the dirt now. YES. He'll probably start cleaning. Score one for Claire! If only all of my guests were like this.

"Hello?" the sweetness that transferred to the phone call was like a direct opposite of my appearance. There was no thought process to answering a phone—it's built in from the time you're a kid—the voice, the remarks; everything is something that you learn at a young age. No thought process.

After a moment, there was no reply, just shuffling—I heard breathing. I move the phone away from my face and sigh. "Hello?" frustration grew in my voice, although, if you do have to think; there's a proper Redfield reaction for it. I slam my fist into my wooden dresser, and growl.

"Listen! I know you punks think it's funny to prank call me then breath in the phone, but I've shot down people before, I'm not afraid to pull guns out on you! Stop calling you insensitive pricks!"

Barely above a whisper, I hear the phone echo my name with an oddly familiar voice; I'm already hanging up though.

The phone almost breaks in my hand when I slam it back down onto the carrier. Before I had time to adjust to the strange caller, I heard Leon rush from the kitchen and run into my bed room door.

"Are you okay?" he shouts awkwardly, he had to collect himself, because he knocked—Leon _never _knocks. He's the unwanted barge in kind of guy. I groan and lock my door so he doesn't get any ideas, not that he would anyways. It's Leon.

"Stupid kids." I remark soulfully, and then as I begin removing my shirt, I add: "Go clean my apartment." He starts throwing complaints at me through the door, but his voice is drawn out due to the sound of the running water. I shut the bathroom door; lock it, and then strip. The steam from the shower feels amazing, I touch my arm, leaving goose bumps along the spots where I touch and then dive into the water.

I could literally feel the dirt falling off in globs. I exhale loudly. Yes, I definitely should start hygiene again. I love showers so much. That rain was enough of one though… well sort of. Tilting my head back I inhale, letting the water wash away the filth and then shut my eyes.

"Don't worry, Claire. Your knight in shining armor is here."

I whipped my head forward, pressing my hands against the wall, letting the shower hit directly over my head. My chest felt like it was on fire, even though the water stung in my eyes, I still left them wide open. It was like someone flashed me back to 1998 and put me back in that nightmare. For a long moment, I stayed frozen in that spot.

..I'm being ridiculous. I place my hand on my forehead. My breath was jagged as I lean forward, staring at the drain. Calm down now, girl. You're panicking over nothing. I exhale again, letting my shoulders drop. I'm fine. My eyes close unwittingly due to the chlorine. I'm fine again, just a lapse of judgment. Calmly, I dispense the shampoo from the bottle and begin lathering it through my hair. As I begin to rinse, I open my eyes and look up at the ceiling. Angry blue eyes stared down at me.

"You'll just end up disappointed if you rely on others, BELIEVE ME, I know!" And those angry eyes ripped open my heart all over again; I hit the back of the shower and then slumped to the slippery floor. Tears mixed with water and fell onto my legs; I tucked them close to me and buried my head into them. I rocked gently.

"Get a hold of yourself." I remark, sadly, and then a thought comes to me. Snapping my head up, I rinsed out my hair, shut the water off quickly, and then jumped from the shower. I dried myself off, Leon was still over so I had to look decent, and threw on the clothes I grabbed earlier. I didn't bother drying my hair or anything. I bolted out of the bathroom, through my bedroom and ran for the main answering machine in the living room.

Skeptically, Leon watched me from the other side of the room, holding two trash bags full of garbage. He placed them on the floor and gave me one of his "Leon looks". I didn't pay him any attention, though.

"What's up?" he says in a tiny voice that reminded me of when I first met him at Raccoon city. I wasn't focused on him as I flicked through the machine, looking at my caller ID. 8:46, I look at the clock half buried by my TV, it's only been ten minutes since that time, so that must be the one.

"Unknown location" it tells me, and I swear loudly, startling the government agent. It must be a local phone then, a phone booth or payphone of some sort—there aren't many of those left in Hallburgh, it wouldn't be hard to narrow down. I bolt for my door, forgetting to tell him what happened, but once I reach for the door handle, Leon's firm hand grabs my wrist and holds me still.

"Claire! What's wrong!?" His voice of concern doesn't faze me at all as rip my arm away from his hand and wheel away from him.

"It was Steve!" I scream, guilty tears building up in my eyes. Leon is like a stone, a frown fixed on his face and a hollow gaze in his eye. Damn it, why does everyone look at me like that when I mention Steve?

"Claire… We've been over this…" He starts with the general crap, but I cut him off and point an accusing finger at him.

"Don't start with me Kennedy, I know what I heard! He said my name-That was his voice! It had to be!" Obviously, I sound like a lunatic right now, and the tears cascading down my cheeks aren't helping me look any saner. I'm reaching the conclusion even before Leon starts to say it.

"Claire… There haven't been any reports about Steve in close to 12 years now… No matter how many Umbrella bases we have infiltrated, we can't find any information on him. There hasn't been a lead since Rockfort Island, and even that has been erased. He's not coming back from where ever it was he was taken." I drop my hand, my head falls, and my brown hair covers my face. Leon grabs my shuddering shoulders in attempt to comfort me. He presses his forehead against mine like Chris used to when I was upset as a kid. The worst blow is about to come. Chris, Jill, Rebecca, Sherry, and the list of many others, have all told me what Leon is about to tell me again:

"You saw _Steve_ die right in front of you, Claire. He's not coming back." Leon says it firmly, and then backs away from me. My shaking stops immediately, not because I'm better, just because of habit. The faster I recover, the faster they stop asking me how I'm doing.

I release a sigh I didn't know I was holding, and then look up at Leon. I wipe my face, and he tries his best to smile—sadly, the government official rarely smiled, so he wasn't as good as Chris when it came to faking one. The death of someone by Umbrella's hands is _never_ something we want to smile about. It doesn't come easy, but I appreciate the effort. I shake my head.

"Sor-…" Before I could apologize I stop myself, "I know." I remark instead, and then push past Leon and retreat back into my room where I collect my jacket and purse. I return before Leon even has time to readjust himself.

I flip on a pair of red and black sunglasses and walk past him.

"Let's go see what my brother needed." He exits the door behind me, I trust him to lock it. I have no idea of his expression right now—I absolutely refuse to face him until were standing next to his black SUV. He doesn't unlock the doors until I make eye contact with him.

"Are you okay?" His age lines were showing, and I grunted at him, but smiled.

"I'm great," I tap his car, my way of threatening to deface it if he doesn't unlock it.

He sighs, but the lock releases and I slide inside. No, Leon. I'm not okay. I _know_ what I heard.

**Author's Note: **Soo… how long did it take you guys to realize this was written from Claire's POV? XD

This will probably be the only chapter that is seen from another POV. I wasn't sure what to do with Steve, and I wasn't sure how to incorporate everyone else into the story without making it sound totally random.. So this chapter needed to happen for the next chapter to make sense. **It'll be from Steve's POV again next chapter**… No one panic! I tried to make Claire's thought process sound different than Steve's… How did I do?

Over all, this was fun to write—Go team! :D


	15. Chapter 15

Behind Blue Eyes Chapter 15. What it's like.

"Well, Steve, what are we going to do today?" The question I ask myself floats toward a reflection plastered on a café window. Past my reflection I see a small family sitting at a table; they don't notice that I'm even standing near the window. I smile, but slowly stalk away from it.

The rain left a wonderful humidity, and my wet clothes stuck to my skin. I didn't mind it too much. Once more I glance at the reflection, lucky for me all that exercising I did while I was in lock down left me with some definite muscle tone. I didn't look like a wet dog in these clothes, to say the least.

My first journey through Hallburgh was to just get a feel for it, understand where I was. I didn't want another mistake like the last city—familiarity would be crucial here. I drove around in a taxi a few times; squeezing the drivers for information about the city and about the past few years was difficult; they must not talk to the passengers often.

Around noon I gave up on taxis, they were about as helpful as matches in a rain storm; plus I had no real destination and they didn't appreciate driving around in a circle. Therefore, I found myself sitting at the same bench I arrived on just a few hours ago, tossing pebbles into the street.

This was rather pathetic, right? Occasionally, I'd side glance at the payphone, but I won't make a move to use it again—there was literally very few words that I could tell Claire without either 1. Sounding like a lying lunatic or 2, having to explain everything that happened. Seeing her in person would make things easier. Her address was in the phone book, and I memorized it almost instantly; it would be simple to jump into a taxi, tell them the address, and I'd be there in ten minutes or less.

…She'd probably shoot me. My head aches from the pain of worry; I've played multiple scenarios through my head, but it's so hard to predict what her reaction would be like. Would she be happy to see me? Scared? Hell, she could be mad that I even came back.

For all that I know, she's moved on with her life and Umbrella is a thing of the past. I look up and stare dully at a bulletin board and then cough. "Tricell" glared at me from the board in large bold lettering. Bleakly I stare, mumbling to myself about how familiar it was, forlornly, I was unable to put a name with a company. My surroundings start to become clearer as I look at a News Paper rack beside the bench. Lazily I lean over and snatch one out of the basket—the easiest way to find out the date was to look at a newspaper.

"Tricell sues Terra Save for false allegations regarding _biotaorsfshm."_ The last word was smudged due to the rain fall from the previous night; I flip past the headlines; I don't care about stupid companies suing over stupid things; I just wanted to know what the world was like.

According to this, gas was 4.01 a gallon. The president's extended term is up, so people were already planning on campaigns to get a new one in, and there have been multiple shootings in the western area of the country. I rub my face, lean back on the bench, and kick on leg up over the other.

Amongst the smudged paper, I was able to make out articles that vented about the dropout rate increasing because school cost is increasing. Then there was the typical one about fashion, and another one about pollution and how people's inability to recycle is killing the planet. A later article reviewed new technology; a long list of names piled in such as iPhones, androids, galaxies, black berries, laptops, tablets, etc. Their descriptions were well suited—but I was utterly amazed that within the last ten years they've taken the process of a computer, amplified it by ten and then stuck it into a compartment the size of my hand. When I was a kid, it wasn't uncommon for computers to at least be the size of my torso.

I let my gaze wander to the road before me; people use cell phones all the time, talking on it in their cars, while their walking… Along time ago, the only people with a cell phone were the rich kids; the rest of us used our lung capacity as a mobile device. Now cell phones aren't even limited to just calling, there's internet, music and texting. For only a moment, I let my mind wander with a small smile on my face; would 90s music be considered old now?

Reluctantly, I close the newspaper and set it back into the rack. The journey must begin. I collect my bag from the ground and then begin my stroll along the sidewalk. I walked a bit straighter than before, the longer I was in the city; the more familiar it became. Terrified as I was to enter the world again, I've successfully calmed down, I think. Everything is becoming natural again. People don't smile, they don't stare, they don't wave-they just walk by like they don't even see me. To them, I'm just an average Joe—and that feels pretty remarkable considering the hell I've gone through lately.

I frown while kicking a pebble that crosses my path.

"Average Joe, huh?" I whisper amongst the crowd. Have I changed too much? Will Claire even recognize me? Maybe she forgot I existed over the years... I mean, if you think about it, I didn't really know her that long. A few hours... Twenty four at the most; She probably wasn't even affected by me. I was just another person crossing through her life. I bite my lips intensely, drawing blood from them. My brows furrow and unwittingly I shove my hands into my pockets. Thinking that Claire wouldn't remember me is frustrating, why hadn't I thought about this before I made a 300 or more mile trip to get here?

How does that saying go? Love is blind, or something?

The world blurs around me as I confide in the depths of my own conscious; cars buzz past me, but I no longer flinch. Focusing, my strides become more normal, and I walk past people without being aware of their entire presence. Claire filled every inch of my brain; there wasn't room for other thoughts to borrow past my wall.

I stumbled around the sidewalks, glancing feverishly at some of the buildings; it could be possible that Claire would be walking by, maybe even stopping in somewhere to eat breakfast. With that thought in my head, I keep my eyes on the dinners and the patios of Main Street, but I don't linger.

Abruptly, I pause, a familiar scent flows by and at first I try to ignore it, but the further I walked, the stronger it became. My palms started sweating and I my skin started to crawl. Against my will, my feet stopped moving, and instantly, my eyes turned blood red. _What the hell was going on_? I still had full control over my brain—but my sudden lust for blood was insane. I try to push my leg forward, but I couldn't move. My joints locked up as if I was preparing to take a bullet. My vision dimmed, I could only see what the virus was telling me to run after. I hunched over. I felt no change course through my body other then the sweet feeling of adrenaline cut through my veins… The scariest thing was that I wasn't in pain like usual. I was frozen at the edge of the side walk. My eyes would only move, although, each time they did, I felt blood trickle down my face.

"MOVE WOULD YOU?!" A pedestrian yelled at me, scooting away on her bike. I dipped forward from the jolt, flopping onto the ground like a fish, unable to move. Panic settled in where fear used to reside and I started cursing. Relentlessly, I tried to flail my arms, but the muscles refused to jerk forward. Blood from my face fell onto the concrete and I attempted to clench my fists.

Around me I could hear people's alarm, but their words were distorted. Everyone was mumbling and whispering, my head started throbbing so I groaned. I couldn't understand anything except for one masculine voice radiating amongst the rest of the company. Albeit, it was like someone stuck a knife into my head, I couldn't identify the voice. Rapidly, adrenaline burned through my muscles, fueling my body. I got up with little effort from my arms. It seemed as though gravity pushed me onto my feet. My body twisted awkwardly. My brain still tried to push for control, but it wasn't working. I could feel anger twisting in my soul, cause my stomach to churn, but I was unable to pinpoint why.

This has never happened before. I've never been fully conscious while the virus was taking over; usually, I'm on the ground kicking and screaming in agony. The pain will usually rule out my subconscious. My muscles twitch, I feel people backing away from me now, my vision hones inward, flashing to a spot across the street corner; the image of a male almost becomes clear, but my train of thought broke abruptly. Without fully understanding my movements, my body begins to act on its own accord.

"STOP!" it feels as though it's not my voice escaping my lips, even so, I still twist and boldly I dive into the center of the street. A taxi smashes into my left side; I roll up to the front window and break it beneath the pressure of my body before roughly rolling off the back and onto the paved road, leaving an enormous dent in the front of the taxi, I bet.

Fuck.

No, I didn't just decide to dive in the middle of traffic. With all the complication that was resulting around my clumsiness and blood pooling out of my eyes, some _special _drivers weren't paying attention to the cross walk. I'm not sure if it was an adult, a child or an old man that I saved. Regretfully, it happened so fast I didn't even know I was moving until the taxi collided with my forearm, and then with my left hip, then my head; gravity decided I should also fly, so I rolled over the top of the taxi, too. Fun times. A whizzing noise floats in the air about me, I'm sure that's just because of the head trauma though.

I think this might have fatally wounded a normal person.

Time stood still as I was falling to the ground. Collision was going to hurt the most, I imagine. Around me, I glanced and could see at least twenty people around that saw me get hit by the taxi. I couldn't see who I _saved_ because they were covering their face in fear and someone else went out to grab them. _Person I saved, don't cry—you're not the one that is in pain, after all._ Even at times like this, I couldn't help but be sarcastic. Before I was even near the ground, I saw my blood falling down in a sticky wet splash, but I couldn't see or feel anything that was bleeding out. Once again, I return my gaze to my audience with a grunt the ground was ever near. I hope they enjoy the show.

My body bounces, I'm sent back up with a cough before I slam back onto the stone. Hitting a tree didn't hurt near as much as this did; I imagine it was because this was at such an awkward angle.

If I was only human, Steve, I'd probably be paralyzed because of how my neck cracked to the side. I'd probably have lost my arm with that first hit, the nerves would be ruined. My hip should have crushed my pelvis and broken my femur. And then of course there was the internal bleeding.

Did I mention I hate hospitals? I really don't want to go back into one so soon.

The buzzing noise stops right as my body falls limp and unmoving. I've gone numb, I feel nothing. The gracious audience is quiet, as if they just saw someone die; sorry to disappoint, but I'm not dead. _Someone call the ambulance before I get up and do it myself. I haven't blacked out yet, but for the sake of not scaring you, I'll keep my eyes closed._

Soon, I felt warm hands touching me, then another set. But I felt no pain what so ever, if I cared a bit more, I might have been scared—but this isn't uncommon, during testing, I always went numb when I received a huge trauma. Above me a deep voice yells for people to call 911. Sounds of tears started to fill about the air. People who don't even know me cry, and salty droplets trickled down my arm; or what was left of my arm, I guess. I wanted to get up and yell at them, salt really hurt in a wound, but I had to be cool. Then with a twitch, my head injury throbbed, and everything came back to me in a rush. Instead of seeing blackness, I saw a huge fire. The moment that Mr. Jenkins was ripped up and my escape from the facility all came back to me in a huge whirl wind of flames.

Tricell! I'm so stupid!

Tricell workers killed that worm monster. They chased me through the forest for close to ten miles. They're dangerous, and they're here! They'll know I'm here now, too! Subconsciously, my hand shot up and latched onto the male-helper's throat. Poor guy just happened to be the closest thing around. My fingers dug into his skin, and I pulled myself up. Before me were hostile grey eyes meeting my blue ones; my mouth opened, but when I tried to form words, blood spilled out instead. Blackness followed very shortly after.

I guess my injuries were really _that bad._

**Author's Note: **I'm so mean to Steve, first he escapes, gets thrown into trees, kills a guy, guys to ride on yucky busses, gets yelled at by Claire, finally starts to have things look up and then he gets hit by a car and realizes he's not safe… I'm just awful... :/

So, the plot thickens. Who was Steve's virus pulling him to? It was male, so it couldn't have been Claire. ;D He was about to find out, too, before the evil author decided to throw a knife at him. I kind of like how Steve's mind goes from "CLAIRE" to "FUCK, I'M BEING FOLLOWED AGAIN DX"

Have any of you ever had a one track mind and all you could do is that one thing; For example, you're so engrossed in a game, that it is LITERALLY all you can see and then all of a sudden, something falls beside you (a glass of water or something), and without knowing it, all your reflexes and intuition comes back so you grab it before it falls. Yeah, Steve just experienced one of these moments; but it was at a higher scale.

The RE group is in the next chapter. ;D Let's hope I do well.


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note:** Sorry for missing last weekend's update, I got really sick and wasn't up to finishing this chapter.

Behind Blue Eyes, Chapter 16: To feel these feelings.

I didn't have to be awake to know that I was once again in the hospital. The beds felt like metal and it smelled like bad air freshener. With my eyes still shut, I shudder haphazardly, feeling a sharp pain course through my lower torso. In my attempt not to flinch, I let out a loud wheeze, which only furthered the pain as crawled up to my lungs. My eyes flipped open, and I was staring up into darkness.

Simply by scanning the room I knew it was night time; there was only the slight reflection of the moon dancing through the window. Within a few moments, my eyes adjust to the darkness. Honestly, it was deathly quiet, the kind of quiet before hell breaks loose. I gulped—what exactly happened? The throbbing in my lower torso and my head made it impossible to remember the exact moment that I collided with the car, well, aside from the revelation that Tricell is here, and they know that I am too, now. At least they will if this accident makes it into the newspapers... It probably will. I reach toward the lamp beside my hospital bed, but the pain erupting in my torso stops me. The wound hasn't healed yet, surprisingly. I normally heal fast. What the hell was the deal with this wound? Curious as to what was affecting me, I start to sit up.

The drapes around the door of my room fluttered up do to someone passing, and then fell back down. I froze in spot, snapping my head toward the door. How do I know I'm not in a Tricell base right now..? Fear seeps into my chest; I move very slowly to lift up my blankets my left hip stings continuously as I shift my weight. Once the blanket is off my torsi, I fling it onto my lower legs, and peer at my hip. I notice that I've been changed into a hospital gown, and I roll my eyes. I can't keep a pair of clothes apparently. The wound is covered, so I lift my gown, its bandaged, but I make quickly work of them, because it's so dark and I was too much of a weenie to turn the light on, all I see in the dark is a large stitched up gash from the start of my hip bone up to my belly button and through to the lower part of my left ribcage.

Uncomfortably, my face falls. I can feel blood dripping down my side; I touch the cut at my hip and try to stop the bleeding.

"AH!" I retracted my hands from the wound and fell to the bed again. My head smashed against the headboard and my hand fell limp beside me, dangling over the side of the bed. I heard people rushing for my door, and in a haze, my eyes fluttered closed and opened. Right, right. Right beneath the left ribcage is where Alexia's pet stabbed me. There's no way a car could do that much damage..; what the hell was going on before I jolted? _Wheeze_

I try not to fall into a dark slumber, but my mind flashed from hearing the nurse yell to pure silence, to the doctors testing my IV's and running blood samples. My brain spun in a blur of agony until my tense body fell limp, and I passed out.

The next time I become conscious, there are voices surrounding me. The room isn't dark anymore and the faint noise of birds echoes in the distance… my mind succumbed to a dire headache. I wince, but it goes unnoticed by the peers in my room. Engulfed in a full conversation; I can only make out bits and pieces of the conversation.

"It's not safe to pretend like we never saw him." A female's voice pips in loudly, it's strong and willful, but the way it scratches was no way close to Claire's. I exhale at her words. They must know me… or they're trying to save me. I can't decide.

"-he was tested on by Umbrella… they'll be trying to get him back. He's a valuable test subject to them… The fact that he made it this fa—"The speakers voice was very deep, coated in sadness, possibly worry. He shifted around a lot while he spoke. His voice, like the last, was unfamiliar. So, this must be Tricell, they probably want to try and trade my body to Umbrella; Forget it! My fists clench unwittingly and I start to get up, but at the crack of another voice, I relax.

"We need to protect him from Umbrella if he ran away from them. He's still a person! You have no right to assume otherwise!" From the farthest away, the voice rang, and instantly brought silence amongst the group inside my room. I must say, I like this guy's plan the best. I thought to open my eyes, to show that I was human—obviously these people know I'm from umbrella already, and most of them are on my side, so they must be on speaking terms with me.

"_Steve is_ _infected_, _Chris."_ The cold, strong female voice popped in. Chris? Claire's brother? If it was really Claire's brother, then she couldn't be too far away. I couldn't tell if she was in the room or not, she hasn't spoken. Whoever this woman was knew my name, and she knew Chris—another relative, possibly? My eyebrow scrunches, and my muscles tense trying to determine if my speakers were friendly or not. The air is cold around me, and the blankets over my body prove that the doctors made it back to fix my wound after all. Good, I might need that patched if I need to run.

"Jill, Sherry's also infected. She's fine. Infected or not, we can't just leave him here…If Umbrella does know that he's escaped, then he's a primary target, it could be our one chance to end them for good.. No infection has been spread yet." On the other side of the room the woman, who I assumed was Jill, scoffed at the man's words.

"Yes, but Sherry was administered an anti-virus that neutralized the risk of spreading the disease. We don't know if Steve has been treated that kindly." A shuffle erupted from the other side of the room, a stomp and then a groan. A shadow fell over my eyelids.

"Be quiet." _Her voice demanded silence._ "He's awake." My heart sank; Claire's voice. Her tone echoed through the room, all eyes were on me. The jig was up, but I didn't want to face her while everyone was around, it seemed weird. I try not to flinch, but I know that I am. Try as I might, my body wouldn't swoon back to slumber, so begrudgingly, I flick my eyes open to face Claire's clear blue ones.

"Long time." My face is solid, my resolute justified, and I stare hard at her. It didn't take long for the pack to gather around me. I flinched away for just a moment, being overwhelmed; the room's brightness was quickly covered by stranger's shadows. No one spoke.

Discomfort settled in, and I had to break eye contact with Claire, it felt as though the fire in her eyes burned through my soul. I lean forward, everyone, including Claire took a step back. Figures. I groan and grab my side as I press my other hand beside me. The blanket falls to my waist, and the sound of guns cocking fires up the room. The grin that happened on my face wasn't intentional. I simply believed it was ironic… but what did I expect? They know Umbrella experimented on me, how did they know I wasn't brainwashed? Hell, how did I know that I wasn't brainwashed?

I snap my head at them, I could leap at them, remove their guns—but I'm both out of practice, and injured already albeit the wound feels better. Each of the three strangers carries their own glare, each amplified by the radiant sun beam from the open window.

One of them stood tall and well built, a mop of blonde hair draped in front of his grey eyes. Clouds of worry and agitation were definite through his frowned mouth and tired eyes. He was some type of agent, he wore official clothing. I locked eyes with him for a moment, trying to match his intensity, but trying to look honest to some extent; when he flinched, unsure of himself, my gaze drifted to the other female, Jill. She simply looked angry, aggravation written up and down her aged face like a pill. She didn't play games often, I could tell but she lowered her gun. Soon the agent also lowered his gun, and gazed at the floor.

Next was the big guy on the far left. His blue eyes matched Claire's perfectly. This was Chris for sure, the man that managed to save Claire from Antarctica. Good. My grin fell into a smile, and then my shoulders slumped. He didn't lower his gun with Jill's or the other guy, and attempting to force it might look hostile.

"I'm too tired to deal with this. If you're going to shoot me-just get it over with." I don't look at anyone when these words fall from my lips, I simply grab the gown I'm wearing and twist the front of it into a ball in my palm. "If it eases your minds, I'm not a threat."

Chris spun his gun on his right finger, and then with a snuff, he placed the gun into the holster on the side of his belt, as did the other two. Finally, knowing I'm no longer in danger, I look up to them, looking only at them. My palms were too sweaty to face Claire still, my heart pounded in my chest like a freight train. I didn't speak and I hoped that no one expected me to. I couldn't tell if she was staring at me or not, but she didn't point a gun at my head, either.

…Brownie points?

Once again, my body flinches on its own accord and I shift, uneasy.

"Look…" I start, but Chris approaches me and places a firm hand on my shoulder.

"You don't have to explain just yet. We'll call the doctors in and get you checked out of here. That wound doesn't seem to be bothering you anymore." Relief settles into my chest, and suddenly I don't feel as much pressure, I fall back against the headboard; he was wrong. The wound wasn't as painful as yesterday, but it didn't bother me any less… at least not the spot right beneath my ribcage. I clear my throat as Jill exits, commenting about getting a doctor.

It was at this moment that I finally steal a glance Claire's way, just for a moment. It was strange to feel this odd around her, but it was strange to admit to myself that I came so far for someone I knew for such a short amount of time… but god, she was still so beautiful. Her hair had a tint of red in it now, but her face was still as clear and magnificent as it was on Rockfort; she looked angelic in the sunlight. I kept these comments to myself, and cleared my throat. My guests all sat at the same time. I assume Claire was flabbergasted, as she did not speak.

"So..." I start and finally look about the room, and gently touch my wound, referencing it. "What happened yesterday?"

From the corner of my eye I could see Claire's eyebrows nit together and the two males shifted in their seats.

"You can't remember, huh?" Claire whispers while covering her mouth as if she was almost disgusted by the memory. I look away from her, slightly ashamed that I couldn't remember.

"Hey, I didn't have to remember a lot being locked up in cells; my memory isn't at its best anymore..." I grumble, trying to cut through the thick fog that filled the room with a joke. Chris suddenly stands again, and walks toward the window—he places his hand against it and looks outside.

"Witnesses say it looked like you were having a seizure; first you started shaking violently, then your eyes began to bleed and turn blood red. Some people say you were having a bad reaction to drugs but…" Chris turns and stares adjacently at me. "We," He tilts his head toward his sister, "Who've seen the Veronica Virus at its worse know that you were about to turn. People say you were normal up until a few seconds before that—but your chest started to expand…. Right where your hand is now." I look down to see the spot where I was originally stabbed, and then narrow my eyes, and look back at Chris.

"I don't get it." I remark, sinfully, I hear the blonde man sigh, and rub his face; he must have been up all night.

"You jumped in front of a car before anything further happened. You saved a young girls life—but… when you hit the car, it appeared that you hadn't fully retracted into your human state and that spot that was opening up on your torso exploded in blood when you collided with the car." I see Claire flinch beside me, she must know as well as I do that the wound he's talking about in that area was where I was stabbed. I don't make eye contact with her, the agent smiles at me and when he lifts his chin I see finger nail marks decorating his fine skin. He was the one I grabbed, inwardly I release a sigh, I'm glad it wasn't Chris. At that moment, I look at Chris, he appears uncomfortable, for someone as large as he is; he's not very good at explaining the incident without getting emotional. The blonde looks stoic; he probably has to be level headed to keep the Redfield relatives in check. I smile the tiniest bit, respectful.

"When we saw you get hit, Claire and I jumped out to see if you were okay, honest to god, you looked dead—any normal person would have been dead. When the ambulance arrived they saw that your torso wound caused the wound that you got by the car to expand; A few broken bones. But, when they brought you to the hospital they performed surgery to repair the damage that they saw in the x-ray. When they cut into you… There was no more damage. You healed" He paused, and looked at Chris, and then back to me.

"Did I miss anything, Chris?" he asks and then rubs his neck, I wince and then smile.

"Sorry about that."

He smiles, trying to be friendly. "Don't worry about it."

Claire coughs to clear the space, and then leans forward in her seat. "How did you get here?"

The memories of my time outside this hospital resurged, and a frown pulled at my face. I turn to Claire, guilt purging through my eyes. I was thankful when I heard Jill enter the room with the doctor at her heels.

"I'll need him alone for a few minutes if you want him ready to leave."

The doctor checked my wounds, wrote some stuff down, complimented my healing abilities and asked if he could have a blood sample… I kindly refused. Within an hour, I was standing upright at the door with the small group. Awkwardness still stunk up the air, but I tried my best to smile through it. As we exit the hospital, Claire hands me my bag.

"We found this. It stayed in tack, and no one has gone throu—"Chris interrupts her as a jeep pulls in, a dark lady is driving the car and she looks over to us with a big smile.

"We're taking you to the temporary BSAA headquarters… You have to understand that you're under our surveillance until we can prove you're not being controlled by Umbrella." His heart sounded like it broke when he said this, and I could tell that Claire wasn't pleased either—but which ever made them feel safer…

"We'll also need to details about your escape." For some reason, this coldness in the blonde man's voice dug under my skin, and as I climbed into the back seat of the jeep I glared toward him.

"What's your name, anyways?" I didn't mean for it to come out as a snarl, but it went unnoticed as no one stared at me, and it didn't stop Chris from sitting beside me and Claire beside him. The Blonde and Jill sat in the front.

The blonde turns at me and extends a hand. "Leon. Claire's told _us_ a lot about you."

I take his hand with slight confidence, the anger I felt gone. It wasn't his fault that I had a messy escape. I nod to him, and he turns around; the jeep fires up and before I know it were on the road.

"Nice to see the people I know again…"

**Author's Note: **So, yeah. He's met everyone… That's really all I have to say. Haha. I tried not to make him too awkward, and I think the characters were in character for the most part. DID ANYONE ELSE DID STEVE'S SMALL SPARK OF IMMATURITY?

RECV MOMENT, YES?

WHAT DOES THAT WOUND MEEEEAAANNNN? You'll find out close to the end of the story. XD I'm awful for not letting on.

Nahhhh :) Just gotta pick on him a little bit, at least he handled it well. :D

Next chapter should be up next weekend, maybe sooner because I missed last weekend's update. :l See you all then, and thank you all SOOOOO much for reading :D Ilove seeing the reviews for this, I pumps me up!

Love you guys! :)


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Note: **I know I missed last weekend's update for both of my stories, I got caught up in a huge assignment at school. I'm sorry guys. :/ BUT! Thank you for all the amazing reviews! You all truly inspire me to continue writing this story. Thank you! :)

**Behind Blue Eyes Chapter 17: To be mistreated**

Upon arriving at the BSAA headquarters, the place was jumping with life. People stood at the front gates holding flyers, both good and bad. Most of them were asking for funding to sponsor the BSAA building. I had to flinch at the noise level of their enthusiasm. The bad were asking for them to leave and pretend like they never saw this town. I wonder why? My eyes drifted to the sky above us as the storm clouds slowly crept over us again. Why wouldn't the government just sponsor an anti- bioterrorism group? Maybe BSAA felt the government wasn't totally on their side or vice versa, my brain pulls my head to stare at Leon.

The marks in his neck were plain to see—I had no idea if he was infected or not, but when I tried to warn him, a knot caught up in my throat, and I drowned in my panic… And so I said nothing, I simply watched him like his hair was on fire. Was I contagious to living people?

The entire trip was silent as we passed the gates and parked in a small garage on the outside of this small base, I wonder just how long the BSAA has been in order. I twist my head toward Chris who belligerently looks forward, unable to make eye contact with me; also blocking me from his sister's view with his large frame—for good reason I imagine, they weren't positive that I was safe just yet…

Hell, a knot formed in my stomach and let my head droop down with a sigh, I didn't even know if I was safe, not after that incident in town. What was I even thinking about that got me so worked up..

My head ached, I wanted to grab it, but I didn't want anyone to look at me again. I couldn't remember anything. It was like my mind was on a trigger and I spontaneously started going viral… Sad to say, I don't know why. Jill and Leon climbed out of the car first, next was Claire and then Chris was a short next. He turned at me; I didn't bother staring at him. I just frowned.

"I'm escorted, right?" my eyes darting around the room. There were garden tools hung up on the wall. Chris fidgeted and then returned to a straight back.

"It's nothing personal… we just need to know that you're safe before we start questioning you. We need to take a blood sample." His eyes glance over at Leon who sardonically rubs his neck. "We need to know if you're contagious." I wince.

I already know I am; Mr. Jenkins turned the morning after I attacked him maybe it was faster because he was dead, but Leon will face this as well, I'm sure. I've seen it happen many times at Umbrella. When I was first administered to the facilities they infected many people with my virus and it was a downhill slope from there—every single one of them died, yet, they didn't understand how I was alive. My heart raced as I peeled out of the car. I can't look at Leon while the security guards grab me. "I'm sorry." I mumble incoherently before I'm manhandled down the hallway.

"Are you sure we should be doing this?" Claire echoes behind me, without looking at her I can tell she's pained to see me being dragged around by a couple of goons. Chris wraps an arm around her little sister right as they pull me into an elevator.

I hate elevators.

Everyone's hands were so cold. Touching my skin, my bruises and my scratches, everything. The doctors seemed amazed at my speedy recovery and held the charts up like a trophy.

"Magnificent. His healing abilities are outstanding… No human should be able to do this." They would chime and then scuttle around the room like a bunch of fish. They took many tests but the only one that really mattered was my blood test.

The testing rooms weren't as bright as an Umbrella facility room, but they weren't any nicer about how they treated patients. After an amount of time being stabbed with needles and cut into with small knives, flashbacks eroded my brain. Until the testing stopped four hours later, I was like a zombie—as if I was on those brain crushing pills they fed me at Umbrella; going through the motions.

By the time they finished I was in a nice pair of sweats and a white shirt when they placed me in a sanitary waiting room. There was furniture in there, a small little couch, a bed, a sink.. Wooden floors—the works. The décor must be here because most people don't leave. I slump my shoulders and press forward in the room until my toes meet a wooden bed frame and I collapse on it. The blood work would come out positive, and I'd be right back in testing until they found a cure or well…

My brain replays the moment in the hospital when everyone had their gun at my head. There was the _other_ option as well. The most genius minds at Umbrella had a hard time finding a cure for this virus because it was made by an insane lady… I rub my face while turning over on my back.

"Guess I'm stuck jumping in the rabbit hole..." I throw my forearm over my eyes and sigh tiredly. In movies the girl you're in love with would come in right now, asking how you are… but Claire never came—in fact, I felt like I was back at square one, waiting. I curled up on my bed, and exhaled until sleep over came me.

"_My, my Burnside, I'm surprised to see you awake so soon..." His voice was so cold.. I grabbed my ribcage and winced. Warm blood fell over my fingers._

"_The Veronica Virus works so well on you. Alexia would be so enthralled!" He choked sarcastic remarks at me, my eyes were still adjusting—all I saw was a man in dark sunglasses with his face burnt. The ground waivered frequently and a loud humming noise hung over my head—we must have been in a helicopter._

_My head droops against my chest again and I'm limp from my neck down. Did… I die? My heart never felt as warm in my chest as it did now, the circulation in my veins felt distant but comforting. Berating footsteps marched toward me and soon a cold, gloved hand wrapped around my upper jaw and pulled me up to my feet. _

…_I swear the devil looked back at me with his red eyes glaring into the shards of my soul._

"_Tell me why you're alive!" he screamed in my face, but my lungs weren't ready to function, so instead of words forming, blood dripped from my mouth and I blacked out._

I shot up from my bed at the sound of a sudden knock at my door, sweat poured down my head anxiously. I seemed to be out of breath and my arm was sore in all the places they poked me with needles. I gaze toward the clock, three hours had passed. _Knock, knock._

I jump to my feet and run towards the door latching onto the handle and pulling it open without hesitation. Can't I at least nap in peace?

"Sorry." I remark automatically, but two arms wrapping warming around my shoulders stopped any more apologies from escaping my mouth. Over the strong woman's shoulder I saw Jill, Leon and Chris staring at me as well.

"You're not infected; the blood work came back negative!" Claire squeaked to me, and my face drew a deadly scowl.

Something wasn't right.

As if on cue, all four of them felt my tension. Claire backed away from me, tilting her head to one side suspiciously. "Why aren't you as thrilled as us?"

I didn't meant to look angry, but I wasn't going to live the rest of my life with a guilty conscious—that monster was right, why am I alive if I keep messing up? I stare into Claire's eyes, and inhale.

"We need to talk."

It wasn't until we were all seated around a huge coffee table that I felt the pressure.. I should have feigned joy—this was impossible. Leon was skeptical, and had the tiniest bit of an "I told you so" Snarl on his face, as did Chris. Jill and Claire were concerned but.. They weren't worried it didn't seem.

"There's no way I'm not infected" I start bitterly, an scratch my shoulder, I slump over and exhale. "I still.. Change.." I remark, staring at eh ground. Chris sits up.

"what do you mean '''change'''?" His eyes narrow in my direction, and I look up to him, bitterly, a half smile on my face.

I scoff and throw my head back, letting my hands fall into my lap. "Mutate, transform—change. Whatever you want to call it, my virus still mutates me. I'm infected." I return Chris's hard gaze, but Claire's chuckle breaks it.

"_Steve_, you are still infected, per say—but you aren't contagious. You were administrated an anti-virus, I'm sure. Traits of the virus always remain afterwards, yours might be mutation and fast healing because of the severity of your original manage… but you aren't contagious." Jill follows Claire's comments with a nod, but my heart twists.

"There's no way that's just it." I deny.

"_Steve,"_ Leon leans forward, eyeing me. "It sounds like you want to be infected still…" My eyes whip at him, I rise to my feet teeth grit.

"I have to be, there's no way that mutation is a part of who I am now."

"My friend Sherry, she has the same problem—she heals very quickly because she was given the G-antivirus. It's weird at first… but you'll get used to it, _Steve."_

"Stop saying my name!" My head spun and I fell back onto the couch. Everyone jumped at my outburst. I rub my face tiredly, confused as all hell. Mr. Jenkins's death, Linda's death, Tricell's obsession with possibly finding me; all the damage caused was commenced because I was 'infected'. I would not believe that mutating is a normal part of my life, and so wanting answers I cover my eyes and lean over my knees.

"I killed someone in the first ten minutes after being free from that laboratory." Their mouths fall open, but I'm to chicken to look at them. "I woke up after mutating and he was torn to shreds."

Silence fell in the room for a couple of minutes before Chris buckled, leaned forward and grabbed my shoulders.

"Did he get back up?"

Oh god, Steve, the moment of truth.

Yes, he did. I wanted to say, but my words wouldn't come out—the blood samples came out negative, they said I wasn't infected. I looked up at Chris, and bit my tongue. Even if for a little bit, I wanted hope that I can be slightly normal.

"…No." I lie. The guilt was instant.

"Then there you have it. You're not infected… You just have to learn how to control that monster—since you're sitting here now; I'm assuming that you do" He sits back down and smiles at me. "I'm glad to see that you're at least worried about your condition—either way, were going to need to keep you here for a few more days for questioning; do you have the name of the man you killed." He looked uneasy, as did I.

"That's it? I get a slap on the wrist?" I glare at him when Claire stands up, her shoulders raised, but she was obviously bothered by what I said.

"You aren't accountable for what happens when you're in that stage. It was the first time this happened—we're going to find a way to get it under control so it will never happen again; where did the _attack_take place? I'll take care of everything." Her voice cracked, at the word attack, and I scoffed rolling my eyes hatefully, but then caught myself, and quickly rubbed my arm.

"Sorry. Thank you, Claire." I hung my head for a moment, and then looked up at Jill, Chris and Leon. "And thank you guys as well." Claire pats me on the back, and then awkwardly exited the room. Guess this is some hard news to swallow after all.

Chris seemed to hold it together the best of the four and nodded at me. "I'm sure it wasn't your fault, you might have been prompted into killing the man. We'll find out." He helped the silent Jill stand up and then wrapped a protective arm around her. She smiled at me, her anger she had at the hospital gone.

"I understand." She remarks, referring to my virus, possibly. I narrow my eyes at her, but regard asking questions until Leon stands up and rubs his neck. "Wait" I tell him and he stops, looking stoically at me.

"Get tested. I don't want to take any chances." He smiles at me, nods and then follows Chris and Jill outside the door. A shudder climbs down my spine, and I fall over on the couch. I could pretend for awhile. "I don't want to take any chances" More like I don't want this to injure anyone else and get me thrown in the slammer, which is probably where I was headed when Harrisburg releases the murder files to Claire.

Two days later after I had multiple government agents and BSAA members speak with me, a familiar pixie hair cut doctor walked through my door with a confused Claire and Chris at her heels.

"Why did you tell them you killed Mr. Jenkins?" I freeze on my couch, dropping the book I was reading in my lap.

…What?

**Author's Note: **Oh my, plootttttttttt twiistt. STEVE ISN'T CONTAGIOUS? OH MY. Well, we've all seen that he really is because Mr. Jenkins got back up, but any guesses on why his blood work came out negative?

I smell a **COVERRR UPPPP.** Nom nom nom. I love cover ups!

I know that generally Steve wouldn't lie about the situation, but c'mon. If you were presented with a false fact for a short moment after everything in your life absolutely crumbled, wouldn't you try to hold onto the last piece of humanity that you have left? Hope. It's like when you study for a test for days and days, everyone thinks you're going to do great, but you get your test back and it's a D rather than an A. Your parents go home, are planning a huge party for you because they know you did great. Are you going to tell them then that you got a D or wait until their excitement has gone away?


	18. Chapter 18

Author's Note: OKAY, calm down. I'm alive! Haha.

Truth behind this taking so long: No motivation, Schoolwork, and I didn't like the chapter.

This chapter was a re-write because the last one I wrote was like a straw. It sucked. The chapter that was originally Chapter 18 has been pushed back because I felt it moved the story too fast.

I should be back on a weekend update schedule. :) Everyone needs a vacation, right?

**Behind Blue Eyes Chapter 18: TO BE ME.**

You would think I would be glad for someone to say that I didn't kill…

"Just because you were a suspect didn't mean that you did it! You hitched town before anyone could speak to you!" Her voice was shriek in the quiet room and I flinched at her infliction. Sweat fell on the back of my neck and I cleared my throat awkwardly.

"Understand that I had to leave town quickly..—"

"And why is that anyways?" I didn't understand why she was so mad at me, I scuffled to find the correct words to form sentences, but found I had none, so I looked away in shame and crossed my arms.

What was I supposed to say? I was in a hurry because I wanted to see Claire? I did want to see Claire, but there was no excuse in the world viable to admit the selfishness that it took for me to leave the scene of a crime. And second, to leave someone there when I'm the head of the crime incident, I should have stayed and gone to… wait. If I wasn't under fire for Mr. Jenkins death, then who was?

"Who was accused of _murdering_ him?" The words feel out like venom and I leaned closer to Rebecca in anticipation, she took a step back.

"He wasn't murdered. They found his body at the bottom of a trench, he slipped while he was climbing—busted his head open on some rocks, broke some ribs—he laid there and bled to death." My stomach sank; I had the spontaneous urge to throw up.

"...oh," I comment, eye wide open. "An accident.." my voice trailed, eyes gone completely hallow.

_Now that I've eaten, I don't feel the pounding in my head._

"What's wrong Steve?" Claire chimed in from behind Rebecca, her voice coated in confusion.

_Fresh blood dripped from each of my fingers, skin stuck between my teeth. Claw marks decorating the remains of a tent, blood—everywhere; my visions blurry._

I shook my head at them, stood at my feet and walked toward the dresser where I pulled out a fresh T-shirt and pants. _He wouldn't need them anymore_. The cotton shirt in my hand felt like a small fire in my palm. A humming fell over my ears—could it be possible that I was delusional? I could have imagined the incident. I did black out for quite a few hours. Maybe it wasn't my fault—maybe I was the one who was framed…

"Nothing." I finally reply. The tension in the room drains when the words are spoken. I can hear an unheard weight fall from each of their shoulders.

"Then… If what you say is true… You're free to go." Chris words waivered, he stares at Rebecca who nods lightly, a small smile appearing on her pale face.

"I had my doubts when I first treated him… But it sounds like with everything that happened he was in a state of confusion," She smiles at me, and I feel a nub growing in my stomach. "it's understandable what he did in his situation—I'm surprised he made it this far on his own, actually."

Claire pats Rebecca on the back, and smiled at me.

"We've made some arrangements with Leon, you're going to be staying in his temporary apartment until he gets called back out for duty—at that time, the apartment will fall into your name," She paused, flustered. "If that's okay." She adds, glancing at her brother who looked just as squeamish. He gives her a toothy smile and then nudges her.

I shake my head, attempt my best smile and push myself away from the dresser—I place the clothes back inside and nod at the siblings and the doctor.

"Thank you, and its fine; that'll be great." My words are short while I fold my arms. "When do I leave?"

Claire gives me a huge smile and as if the siblings were on the same wavelength, they both fell forward and pulled me into a large hug. Rebecca nodded to me and then moved quietly out of the room, mumbling something about needing to make lunch for "little ones".

"We're glad you turned out to be alive." My face heats up; other humans' touching me without stabbing me with a needle was foreign. Chris pulls away first, but I can't help but think Claire's hug lingered just a bit. I can't help the smile on my face; maybe all the terrible stuff that hung over me was a lie, maybe I didn't hurt anyone. _Maybe it was okay to live in denial..._

My mind moved quickly from the thought, Claire shifted her weight. "Have anything you need? We can take you over there now, if you want." She tilted her head to the door, and with a quick glance around the room, my head turned objectively.

"No. Let's go."

* * *

Riding in a car again was completely weird for me; dread didn't hang over me like it had before, fear took its place. Sure, I had been shuffled base to base many times via helicopter and car—but no one, and I say that with all the respect in the world, drove as bad as Chris Redfield.

Claire rode shotgun, periodically looking back at me and laughing—big city driving, is what she chalked it up to. My nails tore holes into the leather seats, I refused to let go. Chris would barely miss side swiping a car each time he changed lanes—to make matters worse, it wasn't just him, the entire street drove just like him; all. Over. The. Road!

My teeth were bared down, eyes wide—FUCK! I thought we would hit that car for sure. Chris lets out a low laugh and looks to me through the review mirror; I look back, startled.

"Don't worry Steve, I've been doing this forever. If you don't drive offensively, you'd never get out of traffic here." Chris's eyes return to the road, and he makes a sharp left turn on a yellow light.

God, if you're up there. Don't kill me in a car accident.

_Somehow, I feel as if he might just because you're living a lie._

Lightning strikes through my body, my head droops. What the hell was that? It was if my own subconscious was speaking to me… I waited a few moments to see if it would happen again, and when it didn't speak again I relaxed. I'm psyching myself out—I spent years in a lone cell—I know that I'm not crazy…. Right? Maybe I am, if I didn't murder Jenkins why would I tell them that I did? Was my mind playing tricks on me? Did Umbrella do something to me…Was I ever really sane after Rockfort? I did watch them kill… _Many people…_

No…

"Steve?" Claire looks at me, hints of worry in her mind, but my breath hitches in my voice, and I give her a weak smile. Her eyebrows scrunch at me, and only then do I see the faintest bit of wrinkles form on her face—worry.

"Do you need to eat something? We can pull over." I shake my head, but she notices my paleness and taps her brother's shoulder. "Let's go pick up something to eat before we head to Leon's."

Chris merely shifts gears as if he's used to his sister doing this, and gets in a turning lane.

"Pizza?" He looks at me through the review mirror again. I shake my head.

"Really, I'm fine." They wouldn't stand for that though.

"No, really, Steve, I insist! You probably haven't had a decent meal since you've been out! Let us treat you, in celebration." Claire's voice was chipper, not a convincing one, though; she was trying. Trying was enough for now.

The Redfield siblings did have a nice way of making the odd feel welcome. A smile, not a fake one, finally perched on my lips. Claire, noting the smile winks at me, the car moves in the direction of the pizza place. "I insist."

"Alright."

* * *

Claire and I remained in the car while Chris ran inside to grab the pizza… There was complete and absolute silence between us—an awkward one.

Now I know why _they_ came in pairs, they wouldn't know what to say to me in a one on one conversation.

I had to say something first.

"So… Are you seeing someone?" Great conversation starter Steve! Put her on the spot! My voice came out barely above a whisper; the silence only thickened, and became twice as awkward; what was the line? "I could have probably cut it with a knife"? A few minutes clicked by before Claire answered me in a low tone; not looking back at me.

"No." another pause before she continued, "Leon and I tried, but… It didn't work." Leon? The blonde guy? He barely had a personality! Was I jealous? Did I just insult someone I barely knew? Why wouldn't it work? He was attractive enough. Why am I freaking out? A lump formed in my throat, I wasn't ready to talk with Claire alone yet- it was too strange. It's a good thing I was in a seat belt, or I might have run away.

"Why?" I squeak, unable to think of a _proper_ reply. She flinches, but when she starts to speak again Chris was on his way back over. I couldn't help but want to press it more, but the moment wasn't right. I apologized awkwardly and leaned against the window frame.

Chris hopped in the car, five large pizzas in his hands and then plopped them on Claire's lap. "Sorry to ruin the moment."

"Ow, Chris! Those are hot!" She grumbled and then set them in the backseat. He laughed.

"Sorry, you looked down so I gave you a reason to be." She glared at him and twisted her nose, jabbing him in the arm.

I gazed out the window, staring into the skies above the city while vaguely listening to the Redfield's playful banter; I knew they were just trying to make me feel part of the group, but happiness over a guilty conscious wasn't working; not yet, I faded out. _I wonder if they'll look that happy dead._

* * *

Leon's apartment was a small, one bedroom, one bath apartment on the third floor of a dimly lit street. The sun fell behind rows of buildings, and the ongoing traffic meant there would never be silence. We stood at the top of the stairs, pizzas in my hands. Claire rang the doorbell; I could hear shuffling of feet and voices on the other side, hurry up.

The blonde agent, Leon, pulled the door open just a few moments later. He smiled at us, well, Chris and Claire—he faltered when looking at me—that seemed to be the normality of people's looks. I wonder how long those stares would last. We shuffled into the small apartment, the pizza boxes limply held in my arms were taken by Leon and placed on the coffee table.

"Sit anywhere." He told us, and I seemed to be the only person that hesitated. Claire sat on a single chair, and Christ plopped himself down next to Jill and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. Everything was so natural, to me, everything was strange—I wasn't used to voluntarily sitting.

"You going to stand up all day?" Chris waved me to sit, and I did. The urge to fidget was strong in me. Silence fell between us all, and we looked to one another waiting for someone to say _anything. _Leon reappeared at the entrance of the kitchen with plastic forks and paper plates and as if reading the moment, cleared his throat.

"How is fundraising going?" He barked, and then within moments, the conversation started up; well, any side viewer would have noticed that a 'conversation' wasn't the correct term; a debate was a better one. Chris threw something out about the fundraising being pointless, and Claire immediately turned cut throat; apparently, she was head over that department.

Leon took the liberty of sitting next to me on the couch, he placed the plates and forks on the table and then kicked his feet back.

"These two are like this all the time. Claire doesn't think we should be taking loans to build the facility, while Chris thinks it's more efficient," He nodded to Jill, "We like to stay neutral on the matter."

I looked at him, bemused by is words.

As if reading my mind, he popped open the pizza box, placed a meats lover slice on a plate, and handed it to me. "Just thought I would fill you in." He didn't smile, or make any 'friendly' motion toward me, but I could tell by his action he was at least trying, in his own way, to make me feel welcome.

Chris and Claire, in their own sibling way, were too. I look away, slinking back into the pits of my mind, while falsely watching the two bicker about the proper financial way to earn money. Claire said that the BSAA employees too many people to take out a loan—they'll just get further into debt, Chris believed otherwise, thinking loans worked faster so they could end problems faster.

Their voices turned to a low hum; each of them tried to make me feel welcome, Jill ducked behind Chris who was leaning forward, and started a side conversation with Leon who was now kicked back with his feet on the coffee table.

_Trying to help a guilty man…Just let me leave._

That voice. I know that voice. The last time I heard it I was on Rockfort—first being escorted, that voice was my fathers.

_You can't stop killing, can you? What makes you think that it will work this time? This will be the only one?_

Well…I don't.

_Why are you here? What happens the next? _

The voice slowly grew darker in my mind, becoming so thick that I couldn't breathe, my chest started to hurt—_thump, thump._

My heart raced, eyes turning to Leon's neck—he seemed fixated on the TV now, professional at blocking out Chris and Claire's words. They had moved to a more civil manor, and agreed to disagree and were now trying to figure a way to use both of their ideas. He scratched his neck.

My eyes turn to Claire, the voices zone out as if I'm in a tunnel. She smiles at me, and then looks back at the paper she's working on with Chris.

_What happens when you infect someone?_

_Scratch, scratch._

I jump from my seat, properly startling everyone in the room. Raised arms, guilt fell over my face like a tidal wave.

"He turned, Chris." He shakes his head at me, confused at the comment. Leon leans forward, the paleness of his skin becoming ever so apparent. He scratches again.

_I've seen it._ That wasn't my father's voice; that was mine. My voice, now. _The change._

_One by one, they would be laid in front of me on a metal bed. Injected slowly, day after day- Strapped down, IV's in their arms. Day by day, the paleness will take them over; the sweat, the infection only growing worse. Negative, always negative._

It wasn't a voice I was hearing, I was remembering; my thoughts in that tank. The results were never positive—but they always died. Slowly, day by day, they would die; but the results were always negative. The happy doctors talking about their kids; I wanted them to die—and time after time, they did. My head hurt. What was I saying! I fumbled for words, shaking my head around, looking crazed.

"You're infected. He got back up." Obviously, I wasn't making any sense. My mind wasn't working with me, I felt handicapped in my stupor. The Redfield's rose to their feet, Leon's muscles tensed up. I stared at him.

"I'm not infected, Steve, I took a blood test. No traces of the virus were found in my blood stream." His voice wasn't very convincing to me; he didn't even believe himself. "I'm getting better."

I wasn't sure what I was thinking when I lashed out, reached forward and yanked the bandage from his neck. Sorely, I regretted it, because Chris jerked me from Leon and pushed me so hard against the wall the breath was knocked out of me; good to see that those muscles weren't just for show. I coughed, but shook my head.

"He…" I could barely talk, the wind still catching up to me; his wounds weren't healing, in fact, they had gotten worse. Turning red; the eight scratches were covered in a yellow substance, the underlying skin pulsating. He covered them with his hand, anger in his eyes; he knew.

"Infected!" I screamed, and pushed Chris off me with a sudden burst of strength. He seemed startled by my outburst, and stammered backwards. I bet I looked like a deer caught in a headlight, but all eyes were on Leon for now.

"Jenkins," I add, and hastily look at Chris, panic in my voice, muscles giving in. I shook violently; it made sense now! Why they let me go. "He got back up, Claire." I wasn't sure if I was going to cry, it sounded like it with the crack in my voice—but my body was too torn up to shed tears. I slide down the wall, realization finally absorbing.

Of course I wouldn't be accused of killing Jenkins-that would ruin the plan. If I was thrown in jail; it would ruin their plan, I was never supposed to be captured by Tricell—it makes sense why they let me go!

"I was supposed to kill you." My eyes glance toward Chris, whose face drains of color.

Disbelief hits me.

"I thought they let me out too easy."

**Authors Note: **Well, that escalated quickly…

Not much else to say! The next update will come in a few hours! I got some chapters to make up!


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19: To be hated

"That was supposed to be you, Chris." Chris shakes his head at my words. Jill stands up and grabs his shoulders. She shakes her head at me in distrust.

"You were near, that's why I lost control—I was under a trigger."

_Dear Steve. _Dark glasses. _You will be my secret weapon. _

"Wesker… he hated you." That was Chris's trigger, I guess, because the fist that connected into my left cheek caused my lip to bust open and my jaw to crack.

"CHRIS!" Claire yelped from the center of the room. She charged him and pulled him away from me. Jill backed away from the two Redfields—unable to speak, she fell onto the couch and looked toward me—shocked.

Chris fumed at the mouth, Claire in front of him, preventing him from beating me into tiny pieces. I started at Leon; mentally begging him for forgiveness, he stared at nothing letting the information I've just shouted out in a confused stupor sink beneath his flesh.

Did he think he was going to die?

He might... I don't know how serious the infection is.

"Leon's infected." A fog falls in the room, Chris's anger diminishes almost instantly, and they all turn toward Leon. My mouth twitches. I wasn't released to start a new life; I was released to ruin other peoples.

"How do you know?" To me, this seemed like a dumb question, but when Leon asked it, I could tell he was desperate. Deep down he already knew the answer—seeing the wounds, it's likely he has known for some time that he was infected. Easy tasks took longer and longer each day—always requiring more and more effort to produce results.

"Because…He got back up," I pause, unable to make eye contact with anyone in the room—caught in my lie now. "Jenkins did. That's how I know I'm still contagious."

"But they found his body!" Chris, fevered once again, pushes past his sister and stomps over to me. I rise to my feet to face him; I was many things, but not a coward. "This was behind us! Infection, at least it was until you show up out of the blue! Why did you lie to us?"

Ironic, I thought, just a few hours ago you were happy to see that I was alive. He probably didn't like the sly smile on my face—because I could tell that it took every ounce of his body to not hit me again. Blood began to form in my mouth from the last one—apparently, I bit the inside of my cheek. He pushed away from me, furious—worried, unable to control his feelings.

I stumbled to find words that could justify my actions; I couldn't find any aside from selfishness. I wanted to see Claire. I open my mouth, but I'm interrupted by Claire.

"Chris, this is bad." She sat next to Leon, letting her fingers hover over his wounds. "Why didn't you tell anyone?" anger laced her words as her eyes caught Leon's gray ones for only a moment before he looked away.

Honestly, I wasn't sure if the question was directed toward me or to Leon at this point, but either way, he answered first.

"…I knew everyone was happy to see Steve." He glanced at me, his eyes appearing more tired than usual. "I thought it would go away, I was trying to take care of it…" His eyes drift.

I grit my teeth.

"Did you really get your blood checked or did you lie about that, too?" The words fell from my lips before I could actually think about it, and Claire raised her hands, frustrated at the situation.

"Steve! Don't edge him on! This is no time to fight amongst ourselves!" Claire glared at me.

That look.

What was I thinking? Claire wasn't the same girl she was on Rockfort—she grew, changed. Her back was straighter, shoulders high and confidence in her voice. Given, she was always confident on Rockfort… it was easy to tell when she became distraught. That part of her, the edge that caused a smile even in the worse times-the honest idea that all things will work out-that was gone. Finally, the light hitting my eyes, I could see the puffiness around her eyes was not due to tears of any sort—lack of sleep. The wrinkles caused from stress and age seemed ever so apparent; how hard has it been for her out here?

And here I was, still causing problems—Just like Rockfort, if I hadn't showed up unexpectedly and not paid attention, Leon wouldn't be infected.

"I'm sorry." I shouldn't have come back. Never have I seen her that mad—at least not at me.

Jill rose to pull Chris onto the couch. His anger replaced with fear entirely; we looked on to see a pale Leon—looking paler now that we knew what was wrong with him.

"We need to get him to headquarters and have someone check for an antidote. If the blood results are coming up negative, we're dealing with more than just a normal virus."

Day after day… "I'm sorry." I repeat helplessly

Leon smirks at me, and gives a half-ass laugh while he gets up to his feet. "Sounds like you're giving up on me already." I stare at the scratches I gave him and look away, moving toward the door without much thought at all.

…That's because I was.

And just like that, I was back on a metal table—blood work. Leon was admitted into the same lab as me, in fact, for the first three hours I could see him getting hooked up to machines while they took my blood. He seemed pained to be in a lab—must have been his first time.

I vaguely remember this process from the Umbrella labs. They'll take out three pints, strap me down, transfer the blood to another lab, get results in a few hours, come back, and take another pint because they've found nothing. Move me to a holding lab—more scientist prod at me—lights blind me and needles poke into my forearms and stomach.

It wasn't abnormal for them to return me to a cell; that was indeed, the safest place amongst the world for me right now.

The sadness in my eyes echoed through my entire core; one bed, no seats, padded walls: square one. I fumble with a new set of clothes they gave me and set them beside the door. At least the floors were cement unlike the last one I was in.

I couldn't help reminisce the feeling that this has all happened before. Free and then locked up. I was on a pattern. When I sit, my head falls into my hands. Feeling warm tears pool in my eyes, I stare at the floor and escape into my mind.

My first memory of these labs was spent in a tank; stripped of my clothes and dignity, they had me on artificial life—half human, have monster. Always watching the test results through a foggy window-they pumped the virus directly from my veins and into test subjects; some of them were dead at the start—most of them were alive.

I've seen them take small children, women and grown men from a normal body to one so mutated they might as well have been living in a cave. The test subjects always grew violent—almost escaping the facility, killing others—spreading infection.

…Then they'd put me out, transfer me again, new facility, new people; always the same environment, always the same situation. Time after time I'd been moved around like an animal; but sometimes, I really think that a part of me was. A few years after I was admitted, Wesker began to control the research himself, finding my development and mutation with the virus very unique. When he took over—I was often tossed in a pit, forced to change…killed many other infected things, tranquilized and returned to my tank. They never knew I was awake when this was happening.

When I was finally released from the tank, I was placed in a cement cell that smelled like rotten fish and was guarded by twenty men—protected by three locks and two doors. Escaping was not an option. I laugh, in spite of myself; I haven't felt this helpless since they first put me in a padded room. Some hope inside my heart said I should pray to escape again, but…

"I'm not that naïve…"

"What?" The noise startled me, and instinctively I wiped my eyes before the young Redfield could see me. She shuts the door behind her as she enters the room.

"You know," She smiled at me and gently takes a seat next to me on the bed. Her body heat makes me nervous. "It's not very manly for a grown man to cry."

I scoff. "Grown, huh?" I trail off, rub my arm and then stand abruptly—sitting next to her didn't feel right. "I don't feel like I have." I didn't want her to sympathize with me, not now, not after I keep making the same mistakes. I keep my back to her and rest my forehead against the wall; queasy from the loss of blood.

She is silent for a good while; I hear her shuffle behind me, shifting weight from one leg to another.

"You're right."

I raise my head and look over my shoulder at her. "What?"

"You're right." She repeats herself and her eyebrows rise. "You haven't grown."

I waited for an elaboration, but the auburn haired female neglected it for a few moments and instead tilts her head toward me, hair down in a low pony tail. "You haven't grown, Steve, but that isn't entirely your fault."

Great, I didn't actually expect her to take my side on the matter; I turn at her, lean my upper back against the wall and cross my arms—still easily aggravated even though she was saying what I was thinking. I nodded for her to continue, she shifted in her seat and crossed one leg over the other; anxious.

"You were held in a cell for over ten years. How you acted was natural... Given, it wasn't very wise decisions, but it's understandable because you were afraid that Umbrella, or someone like them, would take you back. To have freedom after being locked up for so long—" She paused, her eyes drifting to the camera in the corner of the room. "I can't imagine how it felt."

"…To lock you back up after you've made it this far…" she drifts and then slouches. As opposed to earlier, the young Redfield looked less tired, good.

"Honestly, I don't know where to go with this." She looks at me through her fingers, her eyes bloodshot. "You weren't supposed to come back, Steve."

My heart sank, and I smiled. I slid down the wall opposite her, and met her eyes, begging for an answer to a question I've wondered about since I was captured: "Did... You even try to find me?"

The silence that sunk into the atmosphere was the answer—the hesitation, the lump she tried to swallow back in her throat. Really, Claire? Anger rose in my bosom, scratched my nails on the floor; she didn't have to answer me; I knew.

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out, so I shut it. There was nothing left to say anymore—the single person I always wanted to search for me, to save me, never even tried. I looked away from her when I saw that tears were surfacing in her ocean colored eyes. It makes sense, really—why that even after Umbrella was destroyed, I was never found. Why she always looked sad when she looked at me—and why when she first saw me I wasn't welcomed with a smile—instead, shock and fear.

Well, the circumstances weren't the best for smiling, but she was too dull, fidgety. At first I thought it was awkward because of what I told her before I died—but no. It wasn't because she didn't return feelings for me, or didn't know how to handle knowing about them; it was because she felt guilty that she and her 'companions' never tried to find me.

My teeth clenched unwillingly, and I hung my head, fists balled—blood seeping between my fingers. She must have noticed my anger, because her voice hitched, and she rose and approached me. Her hand was warm on my shoulder when she reached out. She squat down beside me and gave me a sympathetic look—I turned from her, she made me furious.

"Steve…" Her voice catches in her throat, and she squeezes my shoulder. "I thought you were dead." Her voice is so small I can barely hear her.

"I'm the one who should be sorry."

I tried not to look at her, but I couldn't resist; her head fell onto my shoulder where her hand formally sat—usually, this type of contact in a one on one conversation would make my skin crawl or the 'awkward monster' would eat me alive, but this time, I raised my hand and brushed it against her shoulder. The crescent shaped scratches I put in my hand already healed by the time I touched her.

I guess she took the half-assed attempt at patting her as an opening to hug me, because she fell onto her knees and wrapped her arms around my neck. Her face buried deep into crook of my neck, I shot my hands up.

"I'm so sorry, Steve!" She wails, the moist tears dapping my T-shirt. "We sent people out to capture Umbrella, but they never looked for just you! We never even tried. I'm so sorry! I'm so, so sorry!" her words echoed through my body, hitting me like tidal waves. Solemnly, my hands rap around her waist and I pat her back, running my fingers along her spine, trying to calm her… My head rests on her opposite shoulder and my eyes scan the room. Her voice is muffled down, remorse and years of guilt sinking into my shoulder.

What were the words again? "It's okay…"I mutter, almost incoherently trying to sooth the girl.

"It's not!" She yells back, or attempts to; she voice was utterly distorted. "We should have tried harder! Had we found you this wouldn't be happening, we could have helped you sooner."

To be frank, her tears felt odd, I've only seen her cry once—how often had she cried after Rockfort? After she lost contact with her brother or when she saw everyone in Raccoon city pass. It makes sense that she thought that I was dead—no one survives what I went through—especially not after being out cold for close to an hour. And, well, my reason for surviving wasn't the best—if I didn't have a reason specified from Wesker, I might have been dead, too.

I understand, and somehow, the anger I developed seeped away immensely, instantly. I tighten my hold around her and comfort her as I should have a long time ago. Her body falls into mine; I feel her breath on my neck while she weeps guilt into me. I'm sorry, Claire, but we're wrong. I have grown, not in a proper, decent way, but I have in ways normal people won't until they're pass eighty. I've seen death, pain, anger, anguish, and I've stopped flinching to it, I've become partially numb to it—that's why I could run away from Jenkins death so easily. I can lie to myself all I want, but... I stop thinking and press my head into her slim shoulder, gritting my teeth—this won't work, not anymore.

**Author's Note: **Told you I would update. Haha. Oh no, what's happening?! D: little Claire/Steve going on here. Who do you think feels guiltier now? Claire or Steve?

I'm excited for the next chapter. :D Sorry that nothing exciting really happened in this Chapter.. I really felt that Steve and Claire needed a moment to delve into what happened. There's a bit of an unspoken understanding now, I think. At least things won't be totally awkward?

What will they do about Leon's infection? :O DOES LEON DIE?

Can't tell 8D See you next chapter!

I have to write 6 more chapters to be caught up to where I should be.

DAMN, if I write those 6 chapters I'll be almost done with this story! O_o I've estimated there to be about 30 chapters. Haha. I'm over half way there! (: Stay tuned!

Sorry there isn't a whole detailed thing about this; been lazy.. haha.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20: I'm not telling lies.**

You would think that after a moment like this, things would have been less gloomy—for Claire, I imagine that they were; as for me, a dark cloud brewed over my head. I smile for her when she pulls away from me. My shoulder is damp from her tears and the sudden lack of warmth coming from her face sent shivers down my spine. In comfort, I rubbed her arm, but her lip quivers. Tears start to pool in her eyes again, but she wipes them.

"I don't mean to cry like this." A short, pain filled laugh erupts form her throat, and she sighs, sitting limp in front of me; she looks down, eyes on the floor. "I really am glad that you're okay though."

I clear my throat, unable to speak for a moment.

"You didn't know." For some odd reason, I found myself not telling her it was okay again; in reality, I don't think that it was okay—not yet. I smile at her, an honest one and then pull her into my arms for another quick hug. Her arms snake around my waist and she puts her head on my other shoulder.

"I'm fine, Claire." I rub the core of her back—lingering the hug for only a moment..

Her head turns up to me, and she smiles—her eyes look so blue right now, they glisten—I smile back at her, allowing my eyes to drift to her lips. She had beautiful lips, plump, beautiful lips. Even though she's aged since Rockfort, her features still look very much the same. I bite my lip and exhale, once again meeting her eyes. Very, very slowly, she leans forward—or at least I thought she was, maybe I was leaning down. At this moment, I wasn't too sure. My eyes bore into hers, and I move my hands up her back and to her neck. My fingers linger there, tracing her jaw line. Claire shivers to my touch, and for some odd reason I think back to arriving to the Antarctica base when Claire fell out of the jet and landed on top of me. My mind tussled for a split second, eyes growing worried, our lips almost touching; her eyes shut—but mine remained open.

Infection spreads so easy; a scratch, a bite… a kiss. The inside of my cheek throbs; suddenly remembering the cut I had there; I pull away from her. My hands dart quickly to my sides and I shoot out from beneath her. My heart aches from the moment—but I have no idea how my virus spreads. I rise to my feet and brush my pants off. She blinks once or twice. Having just realized that we never made contact, a confused expression traces over her face.

I look back at her, and she stares at the spot where I was before, looking lost. I swing my arms slightly, trying to cut the awkwardness of this situation, and then extend my hand to the auburn haired woman. Eyes wide and bloodshot, Claire only stares at my hand, soon looking away sadly. C'mon Claire, you know. I told myself, and it seemed as if she read my mind because after a short hesitation, she grabs my hand, and I heave her to her feet.

"Can't have you crying all day." I remark, trying to lighten the mood—but I can't tell if she feels embarrassed or guilty anymore because she looks away from me and turns. Her hand doesn't linger in mine; in fact, she snaps it away once she gets her barring. Her eyes drift to the corner of the room, and she inches closer to the door. Arms fall to her sides and she plucks them on her waist—she doesn't face me.

"Is there a cure, Steve?" she is very quiet when she speaks, and I miss her question.

"What?" I urge, and take a step toward her.

She moves forward, touching the door. Her head hangs and her bangs fall into her face, her face is red. "Is there an antidote? An anti-virus, a cure?!" she rushes her words, they're loud now; she's upset. Fuck…

My face falls and I lean against the wall, arms dangling at my side. I look up at the brightly covered ceiling and try to think back to the facility; did they find a cure? Is that why I was released into the cells back at Umbrella? Rather than think about my experiences in the lab, I dodge to my next question.

"Haven't you tried to extract the virus from him? That seems to most sensible way to get an anti-virus." I'm confused, never having taken any classes in science aside from high school courses—I was blind to how complicated the procedure would be to make an antivirus.

Claire bites her lips; she makes a noise with her throat—trying to hold back tears. "Just answer the question." She chokes out, and I hesitate, eye brows furrowing.

"…I'm not sure." I look toward her, her shoulders slump forward; she rests her head on the door and laughs lightly.

"So, in other words, we sit and wait for the virus to kill Leon?" I gulp and then shuffle my feet.

"Why? Why can't you make an anti-dote?" I felt stupid for asking the question.

There is a long pause before she answers. "_Your_ virus keeps mutating." The emphasis she put on your made me feel dirty and I shudder. She looks at me; her bloodshot eyes seemed to have cleared in the last minute or so. How odd.

"Every time we get a sample, the virus mutates… before we can finish the antivirus process—it's useless." She exhales, and crosses her arms. She stares directly into my eyes. "This virus… it's different, it constantly changes its properties. Our best scientist can't figure it out." I shake my head at her words.

"Shouldn't mine and Leon's match up?" She looked like she was in pain when I said Leon's name.

"No. You don't have the same blood type."

"Why does that matter?" her face goes completely pale, but regains color again, and posture as she shakes her head toward me; I'm monotone.

"We aren't sure…" She grunts, "Leon's virus absorbed yours on a genetic level. It's like the viruses are totally different once it got past the blood stream." Her eyes harden, and she glares at me, I can see pain deep in them—unspoken.

"We need a raw sample of the..." She coughs, and breaks eye contact, shuddering. My head tilts forward, hair falling over my eye.

"The Veronica Virus." I finish her sentence and she nods.

Another long, unbarring silence. I move toward her, narrowing my eyes. She takes a step away from me.

"The problem is we don't have a raw sampl—" I cut her off.

"The last known sample ended with the Antarctica base! That's why I was in holding." My face heats up in anger. "You're not seriously thinking of trying to find a sample are you?!" Maybe I was a bit rash, but my mouth moved without my thoughts fully catching myself.

"Well, what else are we supposed to do, Steve?!" Her anger matches mine, but her worry doesn't even come close to my level.

The ice box that has become my heart showed now. "Let him die? Risking the rest of the world is—"

"Isn't that what you should have done?" She snaps at me, approaching me. "IF THAT is your logic, you should have NEVER come back here, right? If you had blown up with that facility, Leon wouldn't be infected!" She points an accusing finger at me, and I take a step back.

My face grows emotionless, the anger replaced with a foreign feeling I couldn't pluck out right now. "I guess that's how you feel then." Her face instantly falls, the anger gone.

"I didn't mean that, Steve." She quickly apologizes, but I get it. I'm not angry at her;

I understand, that feeling—it's guilt, hate, and worry. All caused by me. "No, Claire." I feigned the anger even though I wasn't.

"Just leave; you're right," I walk toward my bed, pick up the street clothes they gave me earlier and toss them at her. "I shouldn't have come back." She catches the clothes, digs her heels into the ground and turns, grabbing the door handle. She's about to leave when she stops suddenly.

"How was it that Rodriguez gave me the information?" She growls, "_You're free to leave the complex._"

It felt like someone shot me, and the door slamming shut was the bullet sticking into my chest.

I fell onto my bed. I'm sorry, Claire. My palm collided with my face. That escalated quickly. For just a moment, I allowed my mind to wander to the confused almost kiss that we had. She's feeling guilty right now—she's not any better mentally than a drunken person right now. I heave a sigh, let the thought slip out of my mind, and roll over on my bed. I'm so sorry—for everything that I'm causing right now.

Walking into a room that has almost twenty people buzzing around is rather frightening when you haven't been in society for a while. Sweat beads through my hair—I have no idea why I'm so nervous, but I am. I check the clock in the corner of the room. It's been three days since Claire and I had our "conversation", and I just barely decided that I wanted to leave that stupid cage. I look overly tired with a five o'clock shadow covering my face. My stomach felt like it was eating itself, I had passed up dinner the past few days because of stress. Soon the pain faded and I went numb, and my palms were sweaty. Voices echo around me; I suppose that when I first left the Umbrella lab, this amount of people would have driven me up the wall. I might have changed, killed a lot of people—but now I just felt like everyone was staring me.

…And yet not a single person looked at me at me as I inched myself down the hallway one boot fall at a time. They didn't have normal shoes here; just the BSSA uniforms; so I got stuck in one. It fit rather loosely—a size or two too large. I'm just glad I had clothes to put on—I wouldn't want to enter this building in a plain white lab gown—everyone looked too serious. I push my way around a few people who barely even notice me and round a corner and walk into a hall that had a door with a sign labeled "Meeting in progress". I pull on my green, army colored shirt, and tug the color.

Really, to be frank, I don't know what spontaneous idea shot through my head to cause me to do this—well, that's a lie, I know well why I'm about to walk into this meeting. I just simply wouldn't face my thought pattern yet.

Even still, with my head racing, I extend my sweaty hand, grabbed the door handle and pushed the door open without being announced. Quite a few heads snapped at me, some of them were familiar, others were strangers. I recognized two faces in the flood of twelve people; Jill Valentine and Leon Kennedy.

Everyone's faces were littered with either anger or confusion when I entered. A lady moved toward me to escort me out, and Jill rose to her feet-but when I looked up at the board to see what was being spoken about I pushed the lady away from me and took a few steps into the room and shut the door behind me.

At the bottom of the projected screen read the words "Tricell" in small words.

"If you're going to infiltrate their base, I'm going to help." The words roll off my tongue, and immediately the room is in an uproar. Leon remains quiet in his seat—he looks pale, but stable for someone in his condition. Everyone is yelling when Jill raises her hands and slams them on the table, her voice loud.

"Be quiet!" She yells. One by one, each member fell back into their seat. She straightens her shirt and stares at me. "Let him at least announce himself." She smiles at me; more scary looking than Claire at this point—it's odd to think of her as the woman who was patting Chris on the shoulder. She was so kind looking, now she looks professional—all business.

I accidently roll my eyes, caught up in another thought, and then catch myself. I stare at her, extend my hands in favor and face her with a stone expression.

"I caused this new threat, and I want to help fix it." My expression almost breaks but I remain like steel. "I want to fix what I've done wrong." I reframe my words, and look Jill in the eye.

"Good! We were already planning on your help." My face drains of color.

"What?" I look at Leon, who just looks tired.

"We didn't think you would run out on us. Claire said you would show up." Leon smiles and leans in his chair.

Confusion traced lines all over my face, but I sat quietly in one of the chairs, and looked at the screen. Jill sits again, and the lights turn off.

"Now as I was saying…"

Everything seemed to fall neatly into place; no one looked at me like I was growing four heads. There was no introduction—I guess they have more faith in me than I do myself. I swivel in my chair; no, I have plenty of faith in myself, I just doubt the security of my actions because of the virus. I see pictures of Tricell Advertisements rave across the projector before I zone out, caught up in looking into nothing. For once in a long while, a grin touches my lips. Claire hadn't lost complete hope in me.

**Author's Note:** So, This chapter has been sitting here for a while—I rewrote it quite a few times before I was finally happy with it. The last part especially took forever. I still feel like it was slightly rushed, but it will be further explained in the next chapter—I just didn't want to make this chapter too long with too much happening. There's the Claire thing, the virus thing, then the "I'M GOING TO HELP" thing. So, yeah. Enjoy. :) 5-10 more chapters! :D We're near the finish!

I'm kind of sad.. :/

**Author's Note: **I must say that Chapter 19 was my most well reviewed chapter, Thank you guys so much! I so very, very much appreciate it. :) You guys are all fantastic and a huge inspiration for me to finish this story! Love you guys! (even if you think that's weird) Haha :)


	21. Chapter 21

**Author's note:** Hello dearest readers! Many of you have continued to read and wait for this story even though I have taken an absence far too long. It has been three months since I last updated this story, but I haven't forgotten about it. I do plan on finishing it.

Now, I don't usually make this information public, but due to the circumstances—and because I was having such frequent updates and then stopped abruptly— I figure I should tell my readers what happened. In the last few months, I lost my mother. She passed away during a surgery last September. I realize most of my updates came after that date, but that is simply because I was trying my hardest to avoid what really happened; when January came around, I stopped updating because I could no longer pretend shit didn't go south—it happened, my mother is dead, and so I had to shut down for a while.

I'm sorry for the wait, but here's to hoping this chapter is worth the wait! (It's a bit long, but if I would have separated it into chapters, nothing would have gotten done)

**Chapter 21: No one**

You would think after finding out where the last sample of the original Veronica Virus was located, we would immediately set out to obtain it… Sadly, situations are never as simple as that. The government, of course, had to stick its nose in our business because one of their employees, Leon S. Kennedy, was taking an abrupt absence from service until he "sorted out some stuff in his life".

Because Leon was not exactly level headed at the time, Jill filed the leave report for him; made up some kind of lie about how he feels like he hasn't had a social life, and he really needs to find a girlfriend that he could possibly settle down with. And, well, that didn't float over. They sent in military personal to his apartment the following day to speak with Leon. Obviously, he did not look well, so they had some of their medical technicians check up on him. It's a good thing this happened because the medical team diagnosed him with a potent flu bug and put him on suspension until he felt better, and for lying. Personally, I felt that was better than Chris's idea; sticking a .45 onto Leon's upper thigh and firing. I still laugh at how they claimed it was a potent flu bug. It shows just how much American governments know what they're doing.

Even so, this wasn't all that the government had us cornered on. The facility that my family and I were imprisoned in for the course of a few months was under French government control. Bad for us. We asked them for a "visiting pass", but the B.S.S.A was about as popular in France as cigarettes were for children's television shows. We ranked close to nothing on their important people list. A week or so into the investigation we found out that Rockfort Island hadn't been habited for close to eight years since the French originally took control.

Although, I find it a bit funny, a few years before the French owned the island it was a safe haven for escaped criminals. A former prison is a safe haven. Most people would go there if they were on the run from something—then they would go missing on the island when officials would try to locate them. That, or the people that did come back were lunatics. Either way, the island ate them alive—which supported the idea that people had to be crazy to buy the place, and yet, the French did. Alright, you can have it; but why? There were no inside reports as to why the French bought the island, as far as we knew, it was because they thought the island was pretty. Yes, invest in a former prison that was controlled by a crazy cross dressing freak; THAT would be my first plan of action.

So, we dealt with that. Once or twice we tried to send a ship or a plane to check the island out, but we were stopped by traffic in that area and were forced to turn around. Jill and the department of foreign affairs for the BSSA were currently working on persuading the French government to give us at least a week to search the island. When asked for a reason, we told them we simply want to uncover the rest of the identities of those who lost their lives on that island, and seeing as we harbor a survivor—Claire Redfield, she would like to put her mind at rest about the island. I thought it was a well thought out excuse, but the French simply retorted "The Island is ours, and we do not have to share with the likes of _you."_ Man, I guess they really didn't like the BSSA.

We later found out the best way to approach anyone who doesn't like another team in a business deal was to offer them money. They asked for $100,000 for one trip to the island, five people max for three days. Greedy bastards. What beats me is that they didn't even use the island; they just have their named tacked onto it so people would know the French owned it. Who wanted that publicity anyways… everyone knew what happened on Rockfort Island, the terrors that fell upon each civilians head. Maybe that's why our attempt to reach the island was seen as a Good Samaritan act.

…To say the least, we had a lot of donations from the public for our trip. But like all "charity's" the American government stuck their fingers where they didn't belong. We were now being supervised by one of their lower class trainees that thought their shit didn't stink. Well, you know what, everyone's does at some point!

So….That left me the middle, half monster, half invisible man—helpless in these events. I guess the idea of a red head that looks, talks and acts like the long dead Steve Burnside might lead to bad publicity… Yes, apparently I was dead. I had a gravestone up in Canada next to my Mother's and Father's. My Aunt Susie buried us prior to her death. My Aunt was my mom's only sister, and my dad was an only child. Grandparents were long gone and my aunt had no children… Awesome, I guess I really was and orphan.

With the news about a group returning to Rockfort out, the obituaries were up, and my face and my father's face, and my mother's face, and the inmates face's that were reported were plastered on every television set. If someone was really out to get me that must have caused some irritation. I was untouchable as Steve Burnside.

That must make you wonder doesn't it?; if I wasn't helping with getting to Rockfort, what was I doing?

Sorting out my own life.

* * *

This shaving cream smelled like rotten apples.

This hotel bathroom smelled like dry urine and black mold.

This razor was dull, and I'm afraid to say I think I see gray hairs forming in my reflection.

I wipe the mirror with my left hand, and lean against the faucet. The steam that floated through the room after my shower wasn't enough to hide the scars. I find myself fascinated with them more now than I did when I first arrived.

I had quite a few, and they appeared worse with every passing day. My imagination, I'm sure, but it was like I couldn't ignore them. Guilt hung over my head. Is this what Leon would look like after a few years with the Virus…? Would his body even successfully mutate with the virus, or would he end up like those tyrants and failed experiments they put with me. With a gulp, I quickly shave my face, wrap a towel around my waist and exit the bathroom.

It was too hard to breathe.

Leon hasn't been getting better. With each day I see another piece of his humanity slip away. Yesterday, when Claire took me to go brief him on the project his eyes were so glazed over that even though he replied, I could tell that he did not comprehend the information. This is the worst I've seen him. The medical team's anti-virus, although assisting in slowing down the mutation process; worked like Prozac for ADHD children. It sped everything up so much that it slowed him down. We made him food, and left him alone at his command.

Three weeks since I infected him, I'm surprised he's lasted this long on poorly made anti-virus. Don't get me wrong, I am shooting for Leon to get better…but I don't see it happening. Call me a pessimist… but I don't see the French lowering their boarders anytime soon and I don't see the BSSA ignoring the rules. I limp over to my bed, fall back onto it and stare into the red hue of my digital clock: 6:46a.m… The day was just starting, and I already feel exhausted.

These last few weeks, although I've helped with giving pointers and telling Jill which excuse to use with the French, I've literally done nothing but sit in my hotel room, mope for a bit, go for short walks, talk to Claire only when we visit Leon and not step into BSSA headquarters. There has also been no shortage on unhealthy delivery food. I turn over in my bed; placing my hand against my face and rubbing my eyes, counting back the days. Leon's virus is reversible up until he mutates, if my memory serves correct. Claire's hatred towards me is reversible up until Leon dies. And my isolation is reversible as soon as people stop giving a fuck about this "vacation" to Rockfort Island.

_Thump_

My alarm clock crashes into the wall, breaking into a million tiny pieces. I sat up, arm extended, head dipped into my chest. I'm tired of looking at the clock and wondering when I'm going to be called upon; but each time I've tried to help since that meeting I've progressively gotten in the way and told when we actually go to Rockfort, I'll be able to help the most there.

So instead, I've spent quite a few hours digging up family and friends information. No one in my family was alive. I've gone over that—but none of my friends are alive, either. There were old reports dating back to when I was kidnapped to just last year about people I was friends with committing "suicides" or simply gone missing. A coincidence? Maybe, but I doubt it.

I throw on a white T-shirt and some blue jeans and fall into the chair across the room from my bed and right next to my broken alarm. My hair is getting in my eyes again, I'm too old for it to be this long, but I lacked the proper scissors to trim it again. A laugh escaped my throat "too old". I've been saying that a lot lately. I'm too old, or too busy, or too this, or too that. Anger builds in my stomach, and I lurch forward. I want to help. But so far I'm just playing Nanny for Leon. Don't get me wrong, I feel guilty, I do, beyond words, but I want to help cure him, not make him as comfortable as possible for the inevitable.

Damn it! I know I could help more if these cameras would get off this Rockfort shit—no one knew the public would react like this, and I wish they wouldn't. I could help more if they would just LEAVE the subject alone. It's not like a single one of them really care, they just rally because they can—because they want to get off work—or so they'll have gossip later on in life. My fists clench and blood trickles out from beneath my fingers. Thoughts of the idiots who didn't know anything flood into my mind and I rub my hand against my face, leaving a trail of blood.

Smells like iron.

Ha, ha, ha. I snap. My hand falls down my chest, leaving another stain of blood on my white T-shirt. I didn't realize I was laughing so loud until my head falls back against the wall with a loud thump. The laughter builds like an avalanche, and I can't stop. I find it funny; I said that before; I find everything funny. It's like it hurts so bad that I can't not find it funny. And so I laugh, and I laugh hard. I laugh like I've never laughed before—wheezing, clenching my stomach and buckling over. Tears fill in my eyes, and I still can't stop.

I sound crazy—Ha, I must be crazy.

Wesker's voice fills my head as I playback all those moments where I ripped into some innocent souls flesh—that's right… it's all been coming back to me; waking me up in my sleep with an unquenchable thirst, driving me insane. I can't figure out why everything is blurring back now. Mr. Jenkins seems like nothing in comparison to what Wesker had me doing before. I throw my head back, smashing it into the wall behind the chair again, and let the tears of laughter roll down my redden cheeks.

Claire was almost my first victim—I can remember that day as clear as daylight now—seeing as I see daylight every day, it's not hard. That terror in her eyes. Her tears, her warm hands trying to close the wound that Alexia put in my abdomen, everything, I remember it all. One last chuckle escapes my lips, and then I fall limp in my chair, a frown coating my face. I face palm, and rub my forehead in the silence.

I have so many unanswered questions, but none of which I can ask right now, because there are more important issues at hand... I guess that in itself makes me dislike Leon; some part of my mind and body wants to blame him for all of this happening. If he wouldn't have been there, I could have moved on with my life, been able to see Claire, properly, not trapped and bloody like the last time she saw me. It's fucking ironic. I kick away from my chair, and fall face first onto my bed. Maybe this wasn't meant to be.

I groan; Steve, you're being childish. If Leon wasn't there, I would have infected some other poor soul instead—one that would have ran away, mutated, and then we would have had another epidemic on our hands.

I roll over and stare at my ceiling, the faintest bit of sunrise peeking into my window brightened the room up. I place my hands on my abdomen, right over my first scar, and gently start to drift.

Calm down, Steve, I whispered to myself. I wasn't sitting here because I'm evil, or hold any ill will towards my fellow men, I'm sitting here in this darkness because I can't help—not that I don't want to. Before the media started bombarding us, I was able to help Jill efficiently, especially with remapping what was left of Rockfort onto paper—I'm unable to help with the main details of the project, which has evidently put me in the dark for the last two weeks.

My eyelids flutter once or twice, it hasn't all been for nothing—I know where my family is now, I've been able to situate myself with current policies, and been briefed on BSSA rules so I can be employed by them if this all works out.

Maybe if Leon doesn't die I still have a shot with Claire. My eyes fall shut.

I kick my ass for not kissing her when I had the chance.

* * *

_Thump, thump, thump._

I stir, and sit up immediately. Eyes blood shot from the sudden movement. My heart is racing for no good reason, and I flail my arms about trying to remove myself from my bed.

"Coming!" I shout awkwardly and fall onto my hands and knees in my morning stupor. Scrambling forward, I grab the door knob, but freeze dejectedly before opening it. It could be anyone behind this door. I'm still being hunted after all, or at least I think I am.

"Who is it?" I ask and move my eye toward the peek hole in the door.

"It's Claire; open up." Her face seems flushed. As she stares at the door, she's checking her phone hurriedly and frowning at me, well, the door. I kind of miss when Chris was the one who came to get me, when Claire does it, I don't know if I should be scared or alert. I pull the door open and she immediately puts her phone in her pocket and smiles at me.

"Hey, Claire." I retort awkwardly, looking off to the side. To say the least, these three weeks have not improved our relationship tremendously, or at all. Her face twists.

"Steve, what happened?" of course, I was confused, so I looked at her and frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"Your face, Steve. You're covered in blood." She stated it as if it was a reoccurring thing and pulled out a tissue from her purse, as if expecting the blood was still wet. "Jesus" she adds to her remark.

I look squeamish and move away before she can touch the tissue to my face. "Give me a second" I retreated into the bathroom and quickly cleaned up my face and without thinking, tossed my stained shirt into the corner of the room.

When I walked out, Claire had taken a seat in the same chair that I was cackling in before, and held up my smashed alarm. I didn't make a motion toward her, shrugged gently and walked past her and straight to my dresser where I pulled out another shirt—the auburn haired female watched me, and then set the clock down.

"Do your scars hurt, Steve?" I wanted to laugh at her, but instead, I scoffed and pulled a shirt over my head. Somehow, I must have lost my decency, because I have no idea when I became comfortable enough to change clothes in front of her; I guess my morning drowsiness hadn't worn off yet. A red hue coats my face. I turn to Claire, embarrassed.

"Sometimes." I answered her quickly and pulled a hoody over my shirt. She shifted in her seat and tilted her head to the broken clock.

"Care to explain that one?"

"…Just, had a moment, I guess." I tried to be as vague as possible, but the younger Redfield was never good with me being vague—she wouldn't let me be vague at Rockfort, and she wouldn't let me be vague now.

"Steve, I can't imagine how hard things are for you, but—"I cut her off by slamming the dresser drawer shut.

"I don't need a pep talk, Claire." I didn't look at her as I gathered up my shoes and slipped them on, but I could tell she was fuming.

"I…You..." She stuttered for a moment and then rose. "I wasn't going to give you one, I was just saying."

The crooked smile that came over my face made her eyes roll; I walked toward her and nodded toward the door. "Like you're 'just saying' every time we do this; you don't need to worry about me, Claire. I'm not losing my mind. I've been infected for years—I can deal."

Her wrinkles show. "Calm down, Claire, you're showing your age." I brush her cheek with my hand; I'm about half a foot taller than she is now, maybe because I kept growing or maybe because of the virus, it was up in the air. She scowls at me, and removes my hand from her face and holds it down, glances at it, then swats it toward my person. I flinch playfully, and chuckle; she cracks her first half-smile of the day.

"Well jeeze, I'm sorry if I worry a little bit about the idea you're drawing blood from yourself." She motions toward my hand, and I tuck it behind my back.

"Yeah… well," I pause, look around and then step out of the hotel room. "I said oops?" In hopes that would be enough, I walked away from her; to which I heard a loud sigh follow, and then the slamming of my door, the clunking of her shoes on the deck and then the presence of her beside me. I smiled.

Memories.

* * *

Claire drove a beaten up Chevy truck from centuries ago. I've asked her time and again why she stopped riding motorcycles, but each time she would laugh at me and retort; "You would be okay riding bitch?"

"…Okay, you're right. No I wouldn't." the conversation would die between us until she would turn the radio on. Radio was the simple solution to solving most dangerously awkward moments; I've heard the radio a lot lately.

"The artist now-a-days aren't very creative, are they?" I made the mistake of letting this escape my lips while she was singing along to some lady singing about rolling in the deep; whatever that meant. She scoffed at me, oh the Redfield glare—I smiled, sort of, kind of, attempting not to laugh at her.

"This is Adele, and she's a very good artist I'll have you know." So matter-of-fact. I picked up her CD case and started flipping through them; best not to make any more comments about the singer. At least Claire stopped singing; I chuckled, she was not graceful.

"Does Nickelback still play?"

"Pssh, of course they do." I flipped a few more pages, Claire looked anxious—must have weird music choice is my guess. Ah, there it was.

"Hesher! Nickelback's first album!" I hold it up for just a moment and then place it into the CD compartment. Old truck, new stereo; seems like a Claire trait.

After a few moments of clicking the play button, I look toward Claire and raise my eyebrows. She chuckles, and then brushes my hand while clicking eject.

"The CD player doesn't work." Still keeping her eyes on the road, she fishes around for a small device in the backseat. Remember how I said technology has gotten extremely small, well, I never actually saw one up close before—but god damn. This thing wasn't even the size of my palm.

"This is what I use now." She takes the cord of the tiny device, places it into the CD compartment of the radio, and presses some kind of invisible on button. Music from Nickelback's first album started playing.

My face lit up immediately at the track "fly" and within the first minute my excitement turned into laughter, I looked at Claire.

"I thought they sounded so much better when I was a teenager." I guess her sudden laughter meant she agreed.

After a few moments of silence when the chorus came up again, I look at her and in the most pathetic, puberty stricken voice I could muster, belted out the chorus. She whooped, turned the song up louder and gave her best impersonation of the song—alas, better than mine, but still pretty terrible. We laughed at each other—hearing music from 1996 made me feel so much more alive. Claire smiled at me, the first honest smile I've seen in a while. I like to think I returned the smile, because she looked back towards the road, but immediately stopped smiling.

Sirens, everywhere.

I look up, Claire clicks the radio off, and fear immediately washes over her pale features.

"Leon…" I knew it too; sirens and ambulances getting this close, there had to be something wrong. It's sad that the happy moments can't last forever.

* * *

We arrived at his apartment in less than two minutes flat. Our hunch was correct. Police officers, ambulances and even a fire truck were outside of his apartment. I hobble out of the truck, and look into the wave of people; no stretchers yet.

Claire was right behind me as we sped up to his door, ignoring the police as they started yelling at us. We only managed to see a flash of the crime scene; Leon was passed out on the floor, phone inches away from his hand, veins crawling up and down his face—and the fever causing bullets of sweat to drip from his hair line.

Claire couldn't remove her eyes from Leon's tormented body, but having seen this type of reaction before, I shot my eyes immediately to the clock; 8:00a.m., the same time we always come to check in on the government agent, why did his virus have to act so terribly now.

We were quickly escorted from the building scolded, but with the situation we were forgotten about quickly as they placed Leon on a stretcher and carried him away.

We stood next to Claire's truck.

"Well…" I start as her foot smashes into the bumper and her fists onto the hood.

"I knew we should have had someone staying with him at all times!" She's angry. I'm staring down, hood covering my red hair to avoid making an even larger scene. The ground seemed so very fascinating right now.

"We shouldn't have listened to him when he said he didn't want someone monitoring him! What the hell were we thinking?!"

Without thinking, ironically, I shrugged my shoulders, tilted my head and said: "He didn't want to feel like a rat in a cage." Claire threw her arms up.

"Why does that matter?" I could almost feel her breath on my shoulders as she approached me. Normally I would get nervous and move, but I didn't flinch away from her, not right now.

"Because, the more people watch you, the more you feel helpless…" I pause and look directly into her bright blue eyes.

"If you can take care of yourself for even an hour _by yourself,_ it gives you twice the amount of confidence that you can survive." she takes a step away from me. "The only reason he's made it this long is because he's pushed himself."

She seemed to lose the focus of what I said though, and her stance waivered.

"What do you mean by 'this long'?" I took the keys from her hands.

"Call your brother; we're going to the hospital."

**Author's Note:** So, I kind of wanted this tension build up, you know what I mean? …but I think we all saw Leon being sick at the end of this happening; right?

I feel like Steve has become more humanized already when he's around Claire—sorry for the abrupt "THREE WEEKS LATER", but I wasn't going to type out each chapter about negotiations. And like I said, I'm trying to keep this realistic, and for someone to not have bought out Rockfort in the last 14 or so years seemed unrealistic. Plus Media, and so on would not leave a situation like this alone if news of it got out. BSSA is dealing with it like a government would. Over all, this chapter is freaking LONG. But I think that separating it into pieces would have taken longer and the build of made more sense…. I think,

BY THE WAY: I love Nickelback, and I love Adele. I only picked them because Nickelback started as a Canadian band in 1996, something Steve would be familiar with, and something a college student would also be familiar with… and I chose Adele as what Steve insulted because, c'mon, who doesn't like to poke fun at Adele's lyrics? (: Love them both though.

Maybe I've lost my touch in my absence? Hahah.

Hope you all enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing it. :)


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22: To Be Fated**

Sometimes I feel like I'm emotionally detached. Everyone is buzzing around the emergency room like a swarm of bees on a flower, and here I am, waiting.

"We need a nurse, stat!" A lady, possibly a cleaning lady screamed across the hospital. I hate this place; it's like reliving my personal hell all over again. Lady, a nurse can't stop a mutation, yes his skin is pulsating and changing colors and yes, there might be some bleeding and no, that wound on his neck hasn't healed properly.

I run my hand through my hair and tuck the truck keys into my pocket. I've always had a knack for picking up skills quickly, I'm glad driving was one of them. Claire had already entered the room Leon was in with her brother, Chris after flashing a BSSA emblem matching the one in Leon's wallet. Guess if one of them went to the hospital they wanted to be able to visit. Government agents also piled in, so Claire forced me to stay in the waiting room.

_"Claire! I can help! Let me through!" She pushes me out the double doors. _

_ "Steve, no one can see you. Stay here." _

I roll my shoulders, damn Redfield. I guess I shouldn't be mad at her though, she's actually thinking; I couldn't go in there, I would be questioned on who I am—it's better that everyone thinks I'm just a civilian waiting my turn to be checked than someone who's supposed to be dead for thirteen years. Still, I felt small as I watched everyone and what seemed like their grandma rush into Leon's room.

His screams echoed. It wouldn't be long until the Virus erupted through his veins and took over. Luckily for him, Rebecca just rolled in, a box in her hand; serum. She doesn't even look at me, but I'm fixated on that box she carries… I wonder what would happen if I took that Anti-virus they've been pumping into Leon's blood stream.

Maybe it would kill me?

Well… It's not like I wanted to die or anything, but I wonder about these things.

It took hours to get Leon to stabilize. Within the first hour they finally got him quieted down. It was around two in the afternoon when they started to call people into examination rooms again. They've obviously never dealt with this level of infection before. Potent flu my ass, is probably what they were thinking.

I've already brainwashed myself with the TV, my feet kicked up on the coffee table in the little longue with a magazine, which I've already read twice, opened on my lap, a slouch that made me look like a bum and a small bag of peanuts in my hand from the vending machine in the corner. It's a good thing that homeless people hanging out in the ER wasn't uncommon. I mean, look at some of these people-they can't even afford pants that fit around their waist properly.

The television was mostly the generic crap; Romance movies, reality TV shows, crappy sci-fi movies, and the history channel. Oh, there was also the news—which I happened to be watching now. No one else was in the longue; I must have scared them all away with my professional brooding skills. Hah… Most of the remaining people hung around in the waiting room; like normal injured people.

Injury. I look at my hand where I previously pierced the skin with my own nails. It's already healed, tiny triangle scars are the only remnant; I hate my scars. I sigh and slump forward.

Yeah, being alone really freaking makes me talk to myself, doesn't it? I shook my head, glanced at the double doors that held Claire and her party, and then returned my gaze to the screen. No change. I sigh, once again, straighten my posture, and throw the magazine back onto the coffee table. I kick my feet down onto the floor and I'm getting ready to leave when the news flashes this emergency room building.

"This is Jessica Carington, standing outside of southwest Emergency room, where a government official has been reported ill with a deadly virus. Here with us to talk about how to avoid getting this illness is Dr. Alexander from the Tricell research company." The news reporter turns at a tall, elderly man with dark shades. "Doctor, tell us what this illness is exactly."

My finger itched to press the power button, to remove the peppy news reporter from my screen, and erase that tricell doctor from this rooms presence, but I held onto the remote, and inched closer to the screen.

"Well, Jessica, it is a potent, unnamed flu bug that is spread easily—spit, blood, occasionally even touch can all transfer the virus to—" footsteps came up from behind me, so I instinctively shut off the television, cutting the overly confident doctor off mid-sentence. Way to look super obvious Steve; let's act like you got caught watching porn!

"Was my interpretation of the virus really that bad?" His voice was disgustingly smooth. Have I ever mentioned I don't like doctors-Especially the ones that sounded like ill-conceited scientists? I rise to my feet, turn and tilt my head toward the man. Placing my hands into my hoodie pockets, I make a B-line to exit, but the doctor only snickers.

"Oh, Steve, you forgot this."

My back stiffens, frozen in place.

"You didn't think you could hide forever, did you? It's not like you were hard to find, after all." His voice sounds evil, twisted. Fuck.

I turn slowly to face the doctor, his hair is a dark blonde, strands swaying in front of his thick pair of glasses. He had on a white lab coat; his name tag was turned around to hide his name, and the widest, smug grin I've ever seen plastered on his face. My legs seek to buckle, but my brain commands that I remain standing. The doctor holds out an identification card, a blood stained, identification card. I flinch.

"I don't want that." Even the smell of her dry blood washes the image of _Linda_'s inevitable transformation into a giant worm monster into my head. My back, where the glass plunged into my skin seemed to burn like fire just at the memory.

"Come now, she did save you. The least you can do is pay your respects." That grin, I wanted to hit him. My fists clenched, eyes narrowed. My teeth grind against each other, I'm shaking—he's a stone.

"Stev—"

"How do you…" What was he, even? The snarl that replaced his grin when he took a step toward me answered it very quickly. He forced my hand forward with his, and placed the blood stained card into my palm. It's hard to believe one person could have a grip like that, let alone the speed to grab me.

He didn't have to say anything else, he simply dropped my hand, adjusted his glasses, and back away from me.

"We'll keep in touch." I watched him leave, stricken with…well, I'm not sure what it was—I was just paralyzed, unable to shift no matter how much I pressured my muscles into it. Sweat dripped from my knitted brows, and my hand shakes, clenching the ID card that did, perhaps, save my life.

Tricell.

When the doctor left, I turned slowly, staring at the double doors as Claire exits them.

"Steve?" no response at first. She inched closer, touched my shoulder, and leaned toward me. "Steve? Are you okay?"

Her touch caused my muscles to spasm, and I relaxed. Even though my eyes were about as wide open as a deer in the head lights, I still managed to look at her worried face, and smile.

"I'm fine." I remarked and stepped away from her, fishing the ID into my pocket, hopefully without her noticing. "Just thought I saw something." I shift on my feet and look at her face. "How's Leon?"

She frowns, folds her arms right as her brother comes up from behind her.

"He's stable thanks to Rebecca." She answers while Chris wraps a comforting arm around her shoulders. "We don't know how much longer he can last like this. We came real close to losing him this time."

Rebecca followed out of the room just a few moments after Chris did, pulling a pair of gloves off of her hands.

"We'll be taking him to BSSA headquarters in a few hours rather than the Hospital. He'll be able to rest better there." Rebecca seems to be the only one completely calm in this situation. Claire looks like she might snap, and Chris is just masking his fear behind a wall of muscle. So, I figure I should be the one to ask the hard questions.

"Is he responding?"

Complete and utter silence is not the best answer to such a question. I mean honestly. I would have laughed at the irony… but, well, you know. Claire looks up toward her brother, raises her eyebrows and then looks down, her eyelashes hiding her eyes.

"Sort of… he's mostly spewing nonsense." Her muscles twitch. She's trying really hard not to cry, I get that; sort of. Chris and Rebecca seem nonchalant, and Chris's arm slips off his sister's shoulder. Rebecca grabs her arms and they slowly walk back into the room where Leon is resting; I wasn't invited. Chris hovers near me; I don't look at him; just at his sister's slumped shoulders.

"Jill and a team of BSSA members will be here soon to transfer Kennedy. Government and the media will be trying to eat this place alive at that point, and I think it's important that you not be here for that, Steve." The keys in my pocket suddenly burn; I lock my jaw, thinking about the doctor who came to visit me.

The older Redfield pauses for a long time. "Claire isn't in the right state to transfer herself to her house, and I don't need her doing something irrational at this point." His glare forces me to look him in the eye.

"I trust you to take her back to her apartment then return immediately to BSSA headquarters. We're going to need you there if Leon starts to mutate, you're the only person we have that can't be infected."

Great… I'm placed on the front lines because I'm 'invincible'. How kind of them. My jaw moves a bit, I'm biting the inside of my cheek.

"You're already giving up on him?" he seemed dumbfounded by my answer. I'm the most pessimistic person here about Leon's infection, and I seem to be the only one still hoping he'll make it. Chris starts to talk, but Claire and Rebecca return, holding some of Leon's personal items.

"…We will talk about this later." Chris smiles at his sister and gives her a big hug. She welcomes it gracefully, and I tiredly look at Rebecca, who pats me on the back.

Things couldn't get much worse.

**Author's Note: **I'm really sorry guys! I had this chapter written up since the end of may… I just didn't have much motivation to post it because it was about 6000 extra words before I cut some of it out. I'm going to try to start writing on the weekends again now that I'm back to my normal job and stuff.

I'm really sorry! : (

9 more chapters!


	23. Chapter 23

**Behind Blue Eyes: Chapter 23, Vengeance**

Claire wasn't pleased with the idea that she was returning home. Come to think of it, I wouldn't be okay with that either if I was her… and her brother's logic wasn't even reasonable. It could still be days or hours before Leon's final mutation. So that left me thinking, what was Chris going to do? Keep his sister locked up until then? I needed to be on the front lines now if anywhere.

You must know, arguing with the elder Redfield is nearly impossible, and, needless to say, the day still ended with me driving Claire home. It was around 6p.m. now; BSSA already arrived, took Leon to headquarters and left the hospital. Getting Claire to leave willingly now, that was a challenge. However, with a few choice words and some dragging, we finally got her into the truck, and onto the road.

If I ever thought our silences were awkward before, this time it took the cake. She was practically fuming, armed with boiling anger that luckily she wasn't willing to release onto me. Honestly, I feel like it's my duty to say something encouraging, but really, was I ever good at that before? I haven't improved through my years of being in solitude. Nervous sweat drips down the back of my neck as I switch lanes. Did consoling someone have to be this difficult?

Every once in a while, when I feel her anger simmers, I'll try to talk, but my tongue always gets caught by a stray thought. So… we drive in bitter silence. The clouds are forming overhead again, and it looks like it'll rain for the third night in a row. I keep glancing towards Claire, who is now biting her nails.

I can't take this, say something Steve.

"Claire…." My voice sounded weaker than it should have, and I thought for sure she would rip into me and tear my guts out right then and there, but she remained as she was. Buckled into her seat, contemplating to herself.

…and so I tried again. God have mercy on my soul.

"Claire, you couldn't have changed anything." Wrong. Choice. Of. Words.

"Wrong, they could let me see him. I'm not an emotional wreck!" She snapped surprisingly fast, and then pauses, looks at me with eyes on fire. "I can deal around you, I can deal around Leon! It's not like I've never lost anything before! I hate that Chris treats me like were kids again! He shouldn't even be the one over this! Just because I didn't pick the side of fighting all the time doesn't mean I can't support myself!"

God save me. "Claire, he-"

"DON'T AGREE WITH HIM." I was so shocked at her sudden yell that I stomped on the breaks, jerking the car forward and to a complete stop. No cars were around, luckily, but Claire had a nice bruise on her forehead and I'm sure I gave myself whiplash.

"What... the..." Her hand rose to her forehead instantly, but I could hear the fire rising in her throat, and this time I'm the one that snaps.

"Claire!" My level matches hers, usually I'm quiet, so her shock was fairly impressive. "They didn't send you over here because they don't trust you! They sent you away because you're the only one that can deal with me! Leon's infection was made from a mistake due to anger and Chris understands that you calm me down!"

This confession should have embarrassed me, but it simply enraged me more. "So I know, I KNOW, how terrible it is to be in a position where you're not in control-but right now, for you and for the rest of the team you need to grin and bear it."

I exhale, put the car in gear because I see another set of headlights coming up from behind and start driving again. There was a break in conversation, and once again a long moment of silence before I realized I might have insulted her.

"..look, Cl-"

"Don't, Steve." Her eyes turn to the window, fist tucked underneath her chin, she's turned away from me. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything. Women are complicated.

The rest of the car ride was silent, like a deadly silent-not awkward like it once was. I honestly didn't know what I wanted to say, but I wanted to say something-sadly, nothing appropriate popped in my head; nothing was probably appropriate for the moment but my brain was eating itself alive.

We pulled into her parking lot for the apartments, and I parked in one that was near the steps. When I put it in park, she immediately got out of the car and made a line to the door. At first, I was tempted just to drive away, but looking at the slump in her shoulders I shook my head, turned the car off and peeled out of the driver's seat.

"Claire, wait!" I run after her, but she doesn't stop walking. She's at her door fiddling with keys when I grab her arm. "Are you okay?" she snaps her head toward me. Tears swelling in her eyes. Oh god.

She pulls away from me, puts the key in the door knob and retreats into her apartment; I follow her in by slamming my hand in the way before she shuts the door.

"Claire" my voice is traced with worry but she swats her arms at me; she must have finally snapped because when I grab her this time, she doesn't flinch away from me like she has the past few weeks. She cries into my chest, and I exhale.

I spent probably the first year of isolation that I could remember crying; unreasonably so; to have my life taken away from me. My shoulders rose, and I pulled her away from me; she's hiccupping.

"Claire, you need to stop this." And then, as if on cue, she resists sobbing and the room falls quiet. "You're much prettier when you're smiling."

She looks up to me; it's the first time I really see her face since our last intimate moment. The bags underneath her eyes have increased drastically, I brush tears from her eyes and this time I'm the one to take the initiative and press my face toward hers; not allotting her time to back out before capturing her lips.

Yep, that was our first kiss- one that I've been so eagerly waiting for. A partially forced, salty and wet kiss-I wonder if I kiss well, or if I'm terrible, or if the tears are making her freeze and not press back.

I was about to pull away when she leans into the kiss, wrapping her arms up around my neck and pulling me closer. Oh god, oh god. My arms wrap around her back pressing her slim body against mine. Her lips part slightly and she presses her tongue against my lips. Isn't there supposed to be a break or something, where we tell each other this is bad? I guess not, because even if my mind, right now, is screaming for me to run, my body prevails. Hundreds of lonely nights built up to create a barrier that says I will not pull away from this kiss! Chris will kill me if I'm not back at headquarters soon.

Her tongue slips into my mouth-I'm such a princess because my knees start to shake when her slick tongue touches mine. I don't fight her intrusion, but I do tilt my head to give her better leverage, and to eagerly slip my tongue into her mouth, allowing our tongues to wrestle. It was so wet, unlike anything I've experienced in years!

Her lips are moist, soft, and it can feel her chest rising and falling against me as she pushes me to the edge of the couch. You know that reasoning that I had? The one that said maybe she can get infected and such? Well, that reasoning was thrown out the door as soon as the backs of my legs touched the couch. Fuck. Too fast, brain says too fast. Time to calm down, Steve.

..Nope

She leans into me. Pressing all of her body weight into mine, and well, me with my already weak legs fall backwards. For a moment, I thought it was over because in our fallen state, she bounced against my chest, and something else that had decided to wake up. Luckily for me though, the break in the kiss was enough to slap some control into my body.

I hadn't even noticed I shut my eyes until I opened them and saw Claire straddling me around the waist. I gulped and grabbed her hands away from her blouse-which she was unbuttoning. I sit forward and shake my head at her.

"We can't do this." it was very, very painful to say this, but it was so very true-we had barely gotten on normal standards, to press it further than this, especially with Leon in critical condition would be crazy. She's not thinking straight, but am I? Am I thinking straight? She frowns at me, doesn't move, and then interlocks her fingers in mine. My mind raced.

...What if she got infected? ...WHAT IF SHE GOT PREGNANT!? My building boner died sufficient enough for me to wiggle her off of my waist. It wasn't hard because she didn't put up much of a fight in her broken state. She didn't seem embarrassed about the situation, she just took her side of the couch, and I took mine-clinging too eagerly to the side. The one moment I needed silence to think things through, to get ahold of what my mind was doing, she opens her mouth and, to my surprise completely, smiles.

"We shouldn't, not that we can't." her smile fades, she crosses one leg over the other, and she cups her chin in her palm, pressing her elbow into her knee to carry the weight. "I just cleaned this place the other day." She gazes at the table top, as if it's speaking to her, and so I lean forward, staring at it also.

"I never imagined you to be the messy type." she shakes her head, and sighs.

"Honestly, i never was until here recently, I'm hardly ever home and when I am I spend my time researching or sleeping-Leon always gave me hell about how dirty this place was." She rubs her forehead, and I get it.

"Oh." Is all that escapes my mouth, no other words are capable of forming.

For a few moments she is quiet, but then she leans back and starts to button her shirt, inhaling. "I'm sorry." she hesitated, as if thinking about her next comment; maybe she thought I would say something-not likely, my brain was fried.

"I know...that they put me with you because I'm the least likely one you'll injure." Her eyes look sad, a bit blood shot from the tears, but it's hardly noticeable past her blue eyes. "But when I'm around you, I honestly don't know what to tell you. When it's okay to speak-and when it's not." She bites her lip

"I mean, maybe it would be different if you hadn't got into town like you did, but under these circumstances, I can't tell if..." her fingers twist in the hem of her shirt, and she throws herself to her feet, my face twists

"Can't tell what?"

"Well..." She hesitates and grabs a TV catalog from the table. "It's like..." her eyes shift, she looks at me for a moment, and then looks away.

"You can't tell if you can trust me." I read her like a book, but I understand-and I've been plagued by that thought as well. She seemed to flinch away, but I laughed.

"You know, I find myself thinking about that a lot; if I can trust myself that is." Claire must have been intrigued because she made eye contact with me. For a moment, I forget everything-the meeting with that doctor, Linda's card boring a hole in my pocket and Leon's infection.

"I don't know why I was let out; they could have easily let me die in that cell. At first I thought it was blind luck... but there was no security system, no anti-virus, nothing that would kill the virus; just a nice lady is what it seems." my voice begins to drift as I mention Linda, I shift my legs.

"Sometimes I wonder if letting me out was just one of their final tests. I mean, it makes sense, right? I leave the complex and I destroy things; Leon wouldn't be infected, some people wouldn't be dead." Claire begins shaking her head at me

"That's not true, Steve. You made it here because you worked your ass off; if you were being controlled-you've had plenty of times to kill people recently than you ever have."

"Well, when you put it like that..." I trail off, glancing toward the corner of the room. I was still full of doubt, but I didn't really want to talk about it anymore. I could see in her eyes that she didn't fully believe what she said either, but the conversation was dismissed and I sigh in relief. I wasn't really in the mood to talk about all the bad stuff that I've done, anyways. She rises from the couch and walks to the television stand and digs around the top of it. She pulls out a picture frame, and then approaches me on the couch. She plops next to me and rests the picture on my lap.

"This is my brother and I when we were kids." I glance at her, then to the picture.

On the picture was a bubbly, seven or eight year old girl with a teenage boy. The girls hair was tied back into a high pony tail, while the teenage boy's hair hung in his eyes. Goofy grins drew up on their faces as they leaned on one another. I crack a smile at the picture.

"It's…nice. But why are you showing it to me?" I mumbled a bit half-heartedly, knitting my brows back together and forcing a bit of a smile. Claire's soft hands take the frame from my hand, and she pulls off the back of it; I'm a bit confused at first, until she pulls out a crumpled, slightly torn picture and hands it to me.

My guts hit my throat, and my chest starts to hurt as I gaze upon the picture.

"Where did you get this?" my eyes snap at her, I'm twitching as my fingers grasp the picture between my index and thumb. Claire leans towards me until our faces are only inches apart.

"I found it after you transformed." Her breath is hot on my skin, "I knew you would come back, so I kept it."

…Any second thought I might have had skydived from my brain and crash landed in a molten pit of lava because I leaned into her, letting the picture slip from my hand as I re-capture her lips and force her back against the seat of the couch. I feel desperate when I touch her, gliding my hand up her torso and tilting her head back with my other hand to kiss her neck. She writhed beneath me; twisting her arms around my neck and back. Her skin is soft against my lips, and I glide my mouth against her flesh. She twitches, pulls my face back to hers, and kisses me again. She pushes me up and then slips her feet off the side of the couch and stands. Her mouth stays on mine, and her arms shift.

She guides me to stand, and then she wraps her arms around me. I take a few steps, clearing the couch with her in my arms still, and then she starts pushing me, to a door in the corner of the room, and then into a spotless, clean bed room.

She didn't bother to shut the door as she pushed me down onto her bed and started to kiss me harder, running her hand up my shirt, gently moving her fingers a long my scars until her hand shot down into my pants.

Oh my god.

The picture of my family that I left forgotten on the floor, the lights in her house completely off, and she on top of me for only a few more moments before I flip us over. I felt normal.

I don't think I'm going to get back to the BSSA on time… Sorry, Chris.

**Author's Note: **HOW WAS THAT? Yeah…? Too fast? I don't think so. The greatest comfort in pain is physical touch. Plus… hormones. I don't know, I felt like it needed to happen sometime and when would be the best time but when they're BOTH upset? Har..harhar.

Once again, I've had this chapter written up for quite some time, I just haven't moved to upload it because I wasn't sure about if I wanted to do the StevexClaire moment, but in the end I decided not to change it.


	24. Chapter 24

**Author's Note: **I want to start this chapter by saying: I am so, so, so sorry. I haven't forgotten about this story... Life has just been crazy busy. I've worked two jobs and gone to college full time (20 credits, that's 7 classes here) since October of last year, I've also moved and started taking care of my Grandmother. I feel guilty for not continuing this story; because I want to finish it. I've just had some continuing issues—I know where I want to take the story, I've just had my creativity squashed by my busy schedule. I hope you will all still read and enjoy this chapter. Again. I'm so sorry. I love you all! I'm going to try much harder to write.

Thank you for continuing the story.

Behind Blue Eyes Chapter 24: Like I do

Claire was asleep on my left arm, snuggled beside me—half undressed. We hadn't even finished removing our clothes before we tumbled onto one another. Whew. Sweat drips from my scalp and onto the pillow below my head. It's hot, and I grimace slightly. It's dark now, the sun long since faded behind the city buildings. How long had I laid here? An hour? Two?

She passed out right after... ehem. However, I found myself in a stupor, unable to sleep—my eyes felt as if they were held open with needles. I looked to the corner of the room, trying to distract my mind from the images of her smooth body beneath mine. Pure ecstasy lay beside me now, her warm skin felt like silk beside my scarred body. The room flashed bright as a car pulls into the parking drive; for a moment I believed it would be Chris who was here, ready to attack me, but he wouldn't leave Leon; not in his state. It was one of Claire's neighbors.

Her digital clock stared at me from the corner of the room, and my stomach churned lightly. All the warmth, joy, and happiness I had faded away slowly over the last few hours. What was I doing, goofing off at a time like this. A swirl of emotion came over me, and I attempted to move away from Claire. I wasn't goofing off, I told myself. I was...I was... Her clasp over my chest suddenly felt like claws ripping into my skin, and I had to escape. Very carefully, I peeled the auburn haired female off of my arm, and managed to crawl out of the bed without disturbing her. I quickly pulled up my pants, and adjusted my shirt and started to tie my shoes on. Behind me, Claire's soothing breath never heeled, and she remained resting as I fumbled around the room until I was comfortable, ten feet away, in the living room, out of her bed room. I lean against the couch where this had all started, and start to rub my stomach; my breathing intensified, and I looked away from the half naked woman who I could see from the couch location.

Steve. I always talked with myself, and I didn't know why. I need to go back, back to Rockfort; now—I have too many unanswered questions, and for my life to progress, I need to save Leon, and I have to do it fast.

I squeezed my eyes shut, and wrapped my arms around my body. What was there on Rockfort? It was a government owned island now, wasn't it? Refurbished and controlled to prevent the spread of the Veronica Virus that broke out there. It was demolished by the time Claire and I left, and in wreckage by the time Chris left. There was nothing there. Or at least there shouldn't have been...

_We'll keep in touch_.

My eyes opened, and I stared at Claire for less than a second before grabbing my coat and heading for the door. I snatched the keys of the table, and then as I turned and unlocked the door; I gave one more fateful look at Claire, longing to lay back beside her, and then turn away.

It took only ten minutes to get back to the BSSA headquarters, I had been speeding almost twenty over the entire way, and when I finally arrived, I was greeted by heavy military units. I booked it to the front entrance, pushing past anyone and everyone who tried to speak with me. I lunged through the large lounge room, through the hall ways until I was met with the ICU door. I saw Chris pacing relentlessly around the room with Jill and Rebecca sitting in the waiting chairs. In the back of my throat, a lump had formed, and I was choking, tried to swallow it down. Would Chris know? Would I live to reveal my plan? I stood for only an extra second to smell myself; I reeked of Claire's scent, hopefully, the elder Redfield wouldn't notice.

I was on a mission to speak with Chris, but my legs locked; I wasn't sure how he would react to my information; but,

No time for hesitation, I threw the doors open.

"Chris-" "WHERE WERE YOU!? Leon could have died! You're lucky we got him taken care of!" He lurched forward instantly, as if he knew I was there before I even opened the door. He lunged at me with a balled fists. Had I been anyone else, I might have panicked a bit more, but my gut reactions fell into instinct, and I bent sideways, dodging his hurling fists. "Chris, Stop!" I heard the two females yell from the back ground, but Chris had already tried to swing, and I had already countered. My fist pummeled into his stomach before I had time to react to my own instinctive abilities. I felt bad immediately, but I couldn't say that. The stress of losing Leon was far to much for him to handle, and that cool and collected man that I first saw at the hospital was slipping.

He tumbled backwards, too proud to admit my attack effected him, but too surprised to continue swinging. I nodded, and reposed myself, pulling my hoodie straight and brushing my hair back.

"Nothing happened." I reassured him—lying through my teeth to get him to calm down. "Claire wouldn't let me leave without her, so I stayed there until she fell asleep. She would have followed me; you should have guessed that." the confidence in my own voice surprised even me, and Chris gently rubbed his stomach, before falling back into a chair with relief.

"I just wouldn't know what I would do if something happened to her." he muttered under his breath, but I heard him and fidgeted a bit; I, too, was a bit nervous about the situation, but as far as I know, I wasn't contagious unless I was in a viral state...Right? I shook the thought out of my head, one problem at a time. I feel like I had some kind of STD, but there was no vaccine.

"I think I found a way to get a strand of the original virus without contamination and border patrol." Everyone perked up a bit, and leaned forward—especially Rebecca, who specialized in this stuff. I paused, looked around the ICU, "We need to speak in private." I told them. Chris was reluctant at first to move areas, believing that everyone in BSSA were good members and no information should be hidden. However, I wasn't so quick to trust people. I was a walking disease, everyone knew that now, and I'm pretty sure everyone wanted me dead. So, any information I speak of might be used against me, or worse, used against Leon.

So, knowing that I wouldn't speak otherwise, Chris scoffed and pushed past me.

"Let's go," he muttered before leading us down a flight of stairs, and into a narrowing hallway. The silence was relaxing, nothing but the sound of our scuffing shoes until finally reaching the lounge room. We all filed in slowly and occupied the table nearest the door. As Jill, Rebecca and I got seated, Chris excused the remaining people in the lounge before taking a seat in front of me.

"Well, Burnside, what is this plan you have?" His voice was cold, I could tell that he was displeased, sleep deprived, it must have been a Brother and Sister thing; because they were both hostile an angry.

"First off.. I want to say I'm sorry this even happened." I received two nods of approval, and one scoff. I continued, "Second, I need to fill you in on some stuff..." I glanced at Chris, who had given me his trust in order for me to leave that day in the facility. "That I didn't tell you before." I could tell he immediately became uncomfortable, enraged even, but remained calm. Jill held his shoulder, and gently rubbed his back—they were cute together, like they were nearly made for one another.

Their traits complimented each other. Jill and Chris were both head strong, but different kinds. I didn't know much about them, or about their relationship—if they even had one, but they were perfect for each other. While on the other hand, Claire and I were... Well, to be honest, I knew Claire for her survival instincts her ability to get me out of sticky situations. We were never really friends before... I cleared my throat. All my thoughts kept flying back to Claire, but I knew right now wasn't the time. It was my turn to return her favor.

"Tricell is here... and they know I'm here. Dr. Alexander is from Tricell, I think, and he's here to collect me."

Rebecca barked. "Don't joke like that, Steve, Dr. Alexander doesn't work for Tricell, he's been apart of the BSSA for years now." Shock covered my face, which was apparent at first, but I shook it off, remembering the night that I escaped the facility.

"When I first escaped that laboratory, I was chased by Tricell military units, the man I saw directing the orders looked like Dr. Alexander, I hadn't realized it until earlier." my voice hitches in my throat, and I fumble with the ID card in my pocket. "When I arrived in town, I felt like my virus was triggered... I felt the same feeling when I was approached by Dr. Alexander at the hospital... it's... I don't know what it is, but I know he's the reason for it, and it's only a matter of time before he triggers it again, if he can."

"You were approached and didn't say anything?" Chris butted in, and I swayed a bit, collapsing into a chair and resting my hands on top of my lap with the ID card clasped in between them, and then leaned forward.

"I didn't think much about it at first... I thought the Leon matter was a bit more pressing, so I didn't mention it then, but I'm telling you now. I think that Dr. Alexander is working for Tricell, and is the reason I went viral in the first place. I have this uneasiness when he is around, like he could an snap me in an instant. Had I not been hit by that Taxi driver, I might have actually done some real damage."

"A BSSA double agent...?" Jill mumbled and scratched her shoulder uncomfortably side glancing to Chris who now leaned forward, seeming to plug the pieces into his head.

"...I could... I could actually see it. All of his unexplained time off. It would make sense." Chris looked to Jill looked to Chris with worried eyes, and after receiving his partial approval, I proceeded to tell them about the meeting with him in the hospital, and then held out the ID card that he placed in my hand, Linda's ID card. "It's not a lot to go off of, but the laboratory I was in was decimated to the point that only someone who was there during the original burning could have had this... it's the ID badge of the woman who let me go."

"How do you know it's not a copy?" Jill took the ID into her hand, and examined it carefully, glancing over the blood. The smell of it still made my skin crawl, and I had to look away from them.

"The blood on the card... it smells just like hers. It's her card."

Chris's eyebrows knit together, and he straightens up in his chair. "You can recognize people from the scent of their blood?" _How cannibalistic, I know_ I thought to myself, and then smirk, but shake the sarcasm off.

"I can, so I know that's hers. Dr. Alexander's scent was also familiar to the smell that caused my reaction before I was hit by that taxi." I pause, and look to Rebecca, who seems to be full of doubt, and worry, and denial. "I know it's a lot to bite off... but if he's truly working with Tricell, he might be our ticket to Rockfort Island."

"There you go with Rockfort Island again, how do you know that the original strand of the virus is there still?" Rebecca, who was caught up in her own denial, was refusing to believe what I was saying—hell, even I was refusing to believe some of it, but it was the closet thing that we had to any lead.

"Because that's the only other place that the Veronica Virus was used and wasn't quarantined. People assumed it was abandoned, but it makes sense that the virus was still active because people who went there have continuously gone missing. I mean, it's a long shot, but it's the only shot we have right now. If we don't act fast to get information, we are going to run out of time to help Leon."

"I don't think we should put all of our faith in loose fa-" Chris interrupted Rebecca by standing up and placing his hand on his holster.

"I think it's the best shot that we have, and if there is any change that Dr. Alexander is working against us, we need to put a stop to him. Jill, I want him notified and taken into custody, we're going to have a little talk with the doctor." Rebecca tried to plead with Chris and Jill again, but they ignored her, and started toward the door.

"Remember when we trusted Wesker blindly?" Was all Chris retorted to her as he and Jill exited the room in determination, Rebecca didn't say anything else to me, she simply left the room quietly, silently accepting that this was the truth.

Finally in the room by myself, I collected the card that I had given Jill to look at, and carefully examined it. It looked different than before, I could tell a few slides of blood were removed from the card. They must have seen what Linda infected herself with. My eyebrows furrowed, and I leaned back, holding the card up to the light.

We have to leave tonight, regardless of what happens with Dr. Alexander—even if that meant leaving on my own... I pause and lower the card into my lap, and then firmly place it back into my pocket. Chris and Jill would be occupied for quite some time dealing with Dr. Alexander, which meant Leon was no longer under guard. I felt slightly bad for writing off Dr. Alexander as a threat, because I wasn't positive... But I needed a distraction. I kicked onto my feet and dusted my pants, I grabbed one of the lab coats that was tossed carelessly onto

_Don't even think about it Steve, you're going too far this time_. My conscious, a voice I had not heard in weeks, months, possibly even years piped up, but all I could do was smile. If the last known strand of the virus was released on Rockfort Island, there is no way that a company like Umbrella would let it go unattended. That island was still a time bomb, and the best place to hide a time bomb is a place where a bomb already was. The French government considered Rockfort a lost cause, so it wasn't being monitored.

I look up, facing the clock and then move toward a computer in the corner of the room. I fumbled with the mouse and keyboard until the computer turned on, and then brought up the internet browser. Rockfort Island was put back on the map by the insane social media, so finding coordinates was easy enough. I wrote down my destination on a small piece of paper, and then tucked it into my pocket with the ID that Linda left me.

_It's a long shot._ I tell myself again, and then push myself away from the desk, and stand up. It's a three and a half hour trip from here, so if it was a faulty lead... it wouldn't do much harm.

What harm is that, you might ask?

Well... I'm not going alone, you see. A large grin plasters onto my face as I turn and leave the empty room and head back up the stairs.

**Author's Note:** Not the best written chapter... but for some reason this chapter was really, REALLY, hard for me to write, I have struggled with it for months, changing how I was going to take the next step three or four times before finally deciding on what I would do; what Steve Burnside would do.


	25. Chapter 25

**Behind Blue Eyes, Chapter 25: That's Never Free**

The people sitting in the ICU seem to look bored as I pass by them with a hop in my step. Guess it's true, put a lab coat on a dog and it's as useful as a horse. I don't recognize any of the faces I pass. Many of them glare at me, indicating that even though I didn't know them, they probably knew of me. They must wonder how I was able to get in, with a white lab coat at that! How important must I look! Inwardly, I roll my eyes at their glares, and continue down the hallway.

The headquarters hospital was separated into wings. ICU, intensive care unit, was the second wing, followed shortly through an arsenal of hallways by the unit wing. The "Unit wing" was just a nice way of putting "Biohazard wing", anyone who was contagious, or a danger to anyone else was placed in this area. I was placed in the basement of the Unit wing when I first arrived here. I was quarantined, which meant no outsider presence unless they had high security personal. Hopefully, my target wouldn't be located in the quarantined area, or I will have to rethink my plan of action. I reach the metallic doors at the end of the hall with an abrupt stop. Beyond this door, I fell back into a science facility. They can dress it up as they want, a biohazard wing is still crawling with scientist… Good or evil, a scientist is still a scientist, and they all want answers. A ball formed at the back of my throat as I pressed my hand again the solid door. Nobody was around me. All eyes were left at the last intersection; few people in the ICU had business here, and most people knew better. I, however, had no sense of right or wrong in this matter, and with my heart racing, I peek into the little window on the door to see if anyone on the other side was watching.

Luckily, for me, there was no one. I completely ignored the "secure access" warning label placed over the right hand door, and pressed myself between them with little to no noise echoing down the hallways. No one knew I was here.

I honestly expected at least a fake hospital presence in the area, but they didn't even include a check in desk… Just, white walls, white floors, and little to the imagination. As I was about to step forward into the mirror image of my last prison cell, the voices of a lone doctor and his group of men echoed from the hallway to my right.

Thinking fast, I leapt from the floor, up onto the high ceiling right as they turned the corner to the door I just entered through. I guess I'm not as alone as I thought that I was. I thump my head against the ceiling in recognition that this must just be the entrance hallway, and the "Nurses station" as some would call it, was probably right around the corner.

I clung to the ceiling, feet pressed firmly against the wall for support and my nails digging deep into the painted concrete ceiling. Honestly, I wasn't surprised this area was concrete from the ground up. Dangerous people come here.

"His condition has stabilized... But I don't think he's fighting it anymore. He's losing the battle." The doctor that I heard before was speaking to a nurse with a chart in her hand. She looked concerned and tired, her hair tied up in a bun; over worked. Like most people.

"Sir. We can't keep going in there. He threw one of the other girls against the wall and now she has a bed with Susan in the ICU. He's been getting more and more violent as the virus takes a hold of his body. We can't keep this up. I have children I want to go home to at some point." The nurse pleaded at the door to the doctor, but he seemed solemn, and sighed.

"I'm sorry, Margret, but Leon is our first priority right now. If he dies, you probably won't have a job to feed your children anymore." He grabbed her shoulders in a comforting way as they slumped downward.

_Bingo!_ I thought with a small grin on my face, before the doctor exited the hallway; the nurse had already turned back around and walked back toward the bend in the hallway. Still, clinging to the ceiling, I followed her. I had no idea I was capable of this—but it came naturally. I was being controlled by instinct. Claws poked out from my fingernails, I could feel them, and I could see the small dots of blood that they left when I plunged them into the concrete for support. I held my body up like this.

_Like a licker. Man… what have you become…_ I shook the thought from my head, and then at the break in the hallway, I saw the nurse reach the charting computer against the wall, and I hurried to the next bend before I dropped down from the ceiling. Almost instantly, my fingers returned to normal with a searing pain closing the wounds. The need to scream was great, but I bit my tongue, held my hands close to my chest and pressed against the wall until they healed. They went numb shortly after, and then returned back to normal. I exhaled, wiped my hands on my stolen lab coat, and then tossed it against the wall. In the hallway with the distraught nurse there was a scrub cart. Quietly, I moved over to the cart, reached under the clothe that protected them, and grabbed a pair.

The Nurse looked over, but I was already gone, down the hallway, changing into the scrub uniform. I pulled it over my clothes I was wearing now, so it was a bit of a snug fit, but it worked. Looking myself over, I exhaled.

"This is as good as it's going to get." I raised my shoulders from their usual slump, and then walked down the hall.

"Margret!" I called to her in a cheery voice and smile. She raised her eyebrows in my direction, and then turned her entire head toward me when I was about a foot away. I stopped there, and extended my hand. "I'm Stephen, the intern. I'm here to take over for Susan while she's getting some rest." Margret's gaze turned glassy, but she shook my hand.

"Where is your name tag, Stephen?" I grinned at her and released her hand, then rubbed my neck with it.

"It's my first day… I kind of forgot it." With that, Margret exhaled and gave me a small, petite smile.

"You need to go home and get it then, son. We can't have personal running around without them. Rebecca would have our head, have you noticed that she's a bit of a stickler on that yet?"

I grimaced, for real. Yes, I know how much of a stickler she is about everything. Nice girl though. I gave a dumbfounded expression, and followed it up with a worried look. "I need the hours though. I've already talked with the charge nurse and she manually clocked me in. I don't have time to go back and get my badge… I'm sure Rebecca would let me slide this one time," I stared at her eyes and gave her a half smile. "Won't you?"

Margret bounced the idea around in her head for a moment, and then shook her head. "Okay. I won't let people know this time, but you better not forget tomorrow." She gave me a stern look and then smiled. "Plus, I'm not about to send my only relief in hours out the door because of a name tag." I grinned at her.

"Thank you."

"Well, our primary care is going to Leon Kennedy, you know that right? He's in room 257, I'll show it to you." She waved her charting clipboard at me in a "come here" style, and I followed her obediently.

"He's had a few violent outbursts since he's been here. But over the last hour he has completely stopped moving. He won't even talk anymore." She flipped through some pages on her notepad, and then handed it to me. It was a list of medication that he's on.

"He's on the highest dose of pain killers that we could legally prescribe him, and the other drugs are…"

"Deadly." I remarked grimly, as I read through the list. She nodded her head, and then the walking came to a stop.

"He's in here." As she continued speaking, I read off the room number and rolled my eyes. I felt plagued by this three digit number. She was talking though, and I needed to pay attention. I returned my ears to her comments; she hadn't even known I stopped listening. "…change his bed pan and replace the IV's. Did you hear all of that?" She looked up at me, taking her eyes off the clipboard for the first time, and stared at me.

I gave her a graceful smile and gently clenched the clipboard, slowly slipping it from her hand, now carrying the notepad and charting board. "Margret… When was the last time you had a break?" Her face flushed, as we were very close and she looked away, unable to keep eye contact.

"About 12 hours. Susan was supposed to be the next nurse on call, but since she got injured I have to stay." I brushed her shoulder off, and grasped it gently.

"Why don't you go to the break room and let me take care of all the small details. He just needs the basics changed out; I can do that by myself." I rubbed her shoulder. "Why don't you rest for a bit?"

Her face was full red, and I was a bit surprised I was able to cause such a reaction. I wanted to pat her on the head and laugh, as I was already head over-heels for another, but if such persuasion was working, I wouldn't complain. She nodded at me after a short time.

"If that's okay. I would love a short break." She gave me a grateful look, and I returned the smile.

"Go on ahead; I'll take care of this." She nodded at me, took a few steps backwards, not looking away, and then quickly turned, and slowly made her way down the hallway. At the end before turning, she looked back at me, and I gave her another smile and a confident nod before she disappeared and I could no longer see her.

Seconds later, my smile is gone and I look at the door in determination. "Leon. You better not be a vegetable already." I press the door open slowly, believing that I had gotten away scotch free. Once I slip inside, Leon groans loudly.

"Damn it. Leave me alone." He barked from his bed, not having realized yet that it was I who entered. Everything was covered in red biohazard signs inside of the room, and Leon was hooked to a machine, but awake. There was little light offered, and the windows were barred shut. This looks more like a prison than it did a hospital room. I shut and locked the door behind me, and then looked at the government agent with cold eyes. It was then that he realized it was me, and choked on his words. He wheezed.

"...what are you doing Steve...?" Even in his deteriorated state, he raises his eyebrows. He was pale, but not dead. His eyes were squinted as if he inhaled too many drugs. He truly was drugged off his ass. The poor guy. I stammer for a moment, not knowing what to tell the government agent. My jaw locks, and I step forward until I'm at the end of his bed.

The words fall from my mouth like ice on a cold day; "I slept with Claire." His eyebrows fell into a furrow, his jaw clenched, and his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles ran white.

"Why are you telling me this?" He looked at me, coldly, and I shook my head. It was right there in front me, the entire time; and I hadn't ever saw it. I smile sadly at him.

"I was showing you anger. They said you had no fight left in you." I pointed toward his knuckles, which he looked at in surprise, and then immediately returned his gaze to me. "You have plenty of fight left; you just have to have the right reasons."

Leon shook his head, and his hands relaxed.

"Great, do you want to give me a lesson on life now that mine is ruined? I can feel my mind dying, Steve," he did his famous Leon scoff and then frowned at me. "Not everyone is lucky enough to survive the full effects of the virus. Apparently, you were one in thousands. The only one."

"Must be because I'm Canadian, eh." I joked, trying to make him laugh, but I could see it only gave him less to think about as he rolled his eyes and looked toward the barred window.

"I'm not going to make it. And the only person that truly knows that is you." His voice seemed distant, sad, but not sad for himself. Sad for the people around him. People should be sad; this was a hero from Raccoon City. He has probably saved more lives, and seen more people die in his life than a group of hundred ever will. My mouth opened, and then closed, and then I walked toward the barred window; and squeezed them in my hand.

"I agree." I replied finally, and then brushed the dark curtain aside to let the sun flare in. "But what if I told you there might be a way to help you… in both ways." Leon perked up a bit, and sat up in his bed, probably more movement than he has had in a while.

"Rockfort Island is the only living area where the Veronica Virus was kept. They studied it there in their lower training facilities. Most of it was lost in the attack, but if there is any trace of it; it's there… and that's where Tricell has wanted me to return."

Leon was ill, dying, even, and still shook his head. "How do you know that's where Tricell wants you? How do you know it's Tricell?" I smiled grimly.

"You've missed a lot." I turned at him and let the curtain fall shut again.

Rockfort Island appeared again… All of a sudden everyone was mourning the people who died there. Where did this come from, if not a sign that I need to go back? Things like that don't just happen. I would guarantee that if I flew a jet there, unlike the other attempts that the BSSA has made, they would let me in with no trouble."

Leon groaned. "That's a lot to put on faith, Steve."

"It's not faith. At the very least if it's not plausible, they'll shoot us down and we'll both die. Unable to hurt anyone else. There isn't a cure possible unless we have Alexia alive again to recreate the Veronica Virus. That will never happen." I pause "So let's be honest, if we can't control ourselves, we can't be here and our only chance to find a pure substance is at Rockfort."

"We have no more options." Leon spoke with me and then lay back in his bed, rattling the IV bags attached to his bed.

"I was always kind of hoping that Rebecca could make some magical cure." He smiled doubtfully, and then looked toward me. "But I guess you already knew that wasn't possible."

"Honestly, Leon, I thought you should already be dead, and the fact that you're not says something. You probably weren't meant to be infected, but this is what happened. And Rockfort all of a sudden coming back to life is not coincidence." Leon nodded, and agreed with me.

"Well, I can't just walk out of here." He raised his arms, full of IVs and treatments, and flopped them back onto the bed.

"You don't need these." As I spoke, I ripped one of the bars off the window and tossed it into the machine that was pumping fluid into Leon. He hollered, and flinched away from the expanding liquid. I could see the anger in his eyes and then I grabbed him by the collar and shook him.

"You need to fight!" I screamed at him, shaking him violently. "Suppress it!" His eyes glazed over a nice shade of red, and he grabbed my arms; I could see the transformation taking affect, but I shook him again, my own blood boiling. "Fight it." He growled and then threw the agent back on the bed and retreated backwards until my back hit the wall.

At first, it was painful to watch Leon writhe in his own pain, clenching for breath he couldn't get, he curled inward, and then threw his arms out, ripping out the tubes in his body. He sat up quickly, kicked his legs over the far side of the bed, with his back away from me, and then fell over; colliding head first into the ground.

So, then I thought maybe smashing the machine wasn't a good idea. He screamed loudly, a bellowing painful screech that made my ears ring. At that point, a nurse, or a doctor was at the door, attempting to open it. Luckily I locked the door.

"Leon!" The woman screamed, "Open the door!" but I didn't let them. I ran towards the door, and held it firm.

Leon lay limp on the floor aside his bed and I yelled for him.

"You have to get up! If you can get up! I can cure you!"

Aside from the banging on the door, the room was silent. The calming noise of the oxygen tank was no longer running, and I couldn't hear him breathing. Maybe I guessed wrong. Maybe he was too far gone to save after all. He was too weak…

I looked down, hearing the banging on the door and zoned out. If he dies, he's going to transform; that's what Chris said, right? I was supposed to be here for that. To put him down because I was the only one who could do it without being infected. I shut my eyes, sad beyond reason; I honestly thought Leon had enough in him to fight back still. To take him to Rockfort to a place where he could be fixed. I knew his time was limited, but I didn't think….

_Wheeze_… Leon spluttered from the floor, and I snapped to look at him. He rose to his hands and knees, and I pushed off the door to help him gather himself. I pulled his right arm over my shoulder, and drug him to his feet. My heart raced in joy, surprise and frustration.

"I thought you were going to die." I remarked, but he replied by looking dreadfully at the door.

"It's not zombies." I assured him as I pulled him eagerly to the window. I leaned him against the wall; he was regaining his strength slowly, but not quickly enough to be of any use. A man's voice from outside the door called for security, and alarms started going off in the hospital while I ripped the curtain off. Three bars remained of the four, and I started on the last one.

Leon, noticing that the door was starting to give in, coughed: "What's your great plan then?" He remarked frustrated, while I only continued on the bars. "It's funny, because in my cells they didn't let any bars in the room, as they were considered a weapon." Was all that I replied to him with.

The metal bars creaked heavily under the pressure I forced on them, my shoulders and back muscles tightened, and I grunted, pulling on them with all my strength until slowly, they gave away. Chunks of the wall fell onto the floor as I toss the bars into the corner, startling the sickened man beside me.

"If you're going to turn, you're going to do it somewhere where people aren't going to get hurt, and where we have a better chance of neutralizing you." He coughed and then rolled his eyes at me. "So you don't really want to help, you just want a nice clean place to kill me at." I could help the laugh that erupted in my throat and I shrugged my shoulders.

"At least I didn't stop you from wasting your time with those machines that you and I both know weren't doing a damn thing." Leon was stumped at this, and pushed himself off the wall, joining me at the window.

"It just made me feel like I was getting better, you know?"

It was hard to tell, but as Leon and I stared from the three story building, it sounded like we had a mutual, unspoken agreement. Everyone else was treating him like a sick animal, already dead; I was the only one who gave him the chance to free himself.

"Do you want to die?" I ask him abruptly. Weakly, he chuckles, he's sweating really badly, and I can tell that the fever must be eating him up—yet, he's still here. His cold, gray eyes glare up towards me, and for the first time I see the underlying determination in them that I knew was his survival instinct.

"Do you?" he asks, and for a moment, I am silent.

"No."

He smiles "Me, too." and then he kicks off from the window and leans over to pull from underneath his bed a black case. On top of the case was a change of clothes, and all he pulled on were the jeans under his gown shirt because of time restraint. Right then, a bullet is fired through the door, so Leon quickly returns to the window, looking a bit stronger each step he's walking. He held the case firmly in his right hand and then tossed it out the window, letting it hit the ground with a loud thud.

"Did you think this through at all?" His deep voice is laced with sarcasm, and another bullet whistles through the air in the room. Sure. Shoot into an infected man's bedroom—isn't there a more civil way of handling this situation? Without thinking too much, I hop onto the window seal, and look over my shoulder at Leon.

"Hold onto my back." I commanded him, and suddenly felt a bit odd. "...No homo." the awkward tag to my statement caused the blonde man to face palm, before he locked and arm around my neck, like he could choke hold me.

"Let's do this Burnside." He paused, rolled his eyes and then wheezed again. "No homo."

The ground was thirty feet down. My breath stopped, and I felt dizzy, but confident that I could do this. The fresh air of outside rushed against my face, and I gripped the edges of the window. One. Leon stood up onto the window as well, getting ready to jump with me. Two. The metal wardrobe I placed against the door budged slightly as the large men started to push their way in. I turned for only a moment to see none-other than an image of my seventeen year old self nodding at me from the corner of the room.

_Three._

And then I leap. I cut through the air a lot faster than I thought I would, and the government agent who only put one arm around my neck found himself grabbing onto my shoulder for support. A bit lame, with two straight men involved, but heroic looking, I suppose. For a moment, I relived that moment I was hit by the taxi, the moment that the ground seemed so far away; like a punishment, but this time, the ground was freedom, and we'd have to hit it running.

My feet collided with the hot asphalt, stopping us from a brutal death. The jolt from the landing caused Leon to lose his balance, and he fell backwards onto the ground, my feet left cracks in the ground; a feat I should have been proud of, but was terrified of now. Leon coughed behind me, and I was drawn back into reality. I helped pull the sick man to his feet as he grabbed the black case, and pointed at the large dome building in the distance.

"Let's go!" To my surprise, as we ran to the dome, Leon was able to equally keep up with my pace. For a man who only moments ago was ready to sit in a dark, isolated room for the rest of his life with an IV pumping into his arm, he had a lot of spunk. He probably felt like this was his last chance of curing himself... and it probably was. The dark circles around his eyes betrayed him, though, I could tell he was in pain with each step—remembering my transformations, I felt like my bones were glass. I'm sure nothing was different for Kennedy.

The patrol was already on our tail by the time we reach the large dome's doors. They were locked. Fuck.

Leon, who carried that case from before, set it onto the ground and took a key out from around his neck. While I banged on the door trying to get it to give away like the bars did earlier, he opened his case, and pulled out a hand grenade and two hand guns. He gave a handgun to me, and he slipped the other into the back of his pants.

"Stand back." He commanded and pulled the pin, dropping the grenade onto the ground in front of the dome doors.

"Oh Fuck, Kennedy!" I yell, he was already booking it to the corner of the building though, and I was a bit slow to follow. The BSSA members chasing us stopped abruptly, and turned the other way for cover. Leon and I, who hid behind metal crates, were for the most part unaffected by the blast. I say mostly because with my keen hearing, the nose was deafening. Before I knew it, the government agent was pulling me up by my shoulder, I couldn't hear him, but he was shouting about getting inside before the cover of the dirt faded. I followed him blindly.

We made it into the dome building with a ringing in my ears. I pointed to a large Jet in the center platform. He nodded and then pointed to a control panel.

"You...jet...I...Hear me?"

"What?" I asked horridly, He could tell I couldn't hear, so he grabbed me, and thrust me in the direction of the control panel. Leon started toward the Jet shortly after. Oh, he probably isn't in the shape to run through men if necessary, and I was the faster of the two of us... Right.

I ran toward to control panel. Testing my own abilities, and wanting to cut time, rather than taking the elevator, or the stairs, I jumped; colliding with the glass window, and smashing it with my fist. I jumped into the little control room, which was empty right now, and started toward the switches to remove the roof, and to release the lock on the jet. We weren't going to be on auto-pilot coordination, so I skipped the computer steps, and pressed the lock release. BSSA men were piled into the building right as the stars started to shine into the building, brightening the area with the glow of the moon. I didn't recognize anyone in the crowd of people, so I assume Chris hasn't heard about this yet... Probably a good thing.

Leon was climbing the ladder of the jet when my hearing returned.

"Steve, come down with your weapons removed, and we promise not to shoot."

I haven't actually been shot since I've been back... I wonder if it hurts. I step backwards, camouflaging myself in the darkness of the control room, and see Leon staring at me from the pilot seat. He is shaking his head, not because he is telling me to give up, but because he knows that if I do, he's a goner. A massive grin punctures my features, and I laugh. I was the one who pulled Leon from his prison, and he was the one leading me now. He might have been in pain, but he had more to live for than my entire life had face value of. I admired him, and so I nodded to myself.

With one large leap, I moved faster than I think I ever have. I cut through the night air with ease, landing on the bridge. Gun fire chased after me, but I'm too fast, or they are terrible aim. Leon and I make short eye contact, a bonding of a virus, I suppose, and I lunge forward off of the platform, and onto the wing of the jet. It creaks, but I run up to the cockpit. One last bullet whizzes by before they start to call seize fire.

"Don't hit Leon!" This time I knew: it was Chris's voice in the crowd, who barked the command to stop firing. I wish I had time to explain what was happening... but bringing more than the two of us on this trip would only cause more people to get hurt; without speaking it to Leon, he understood that as well. If I had told them about the plan, they would have stopped us both... but, that was no longer an option.

So, as I jumped into the back seat, Leon started to shut the top, and was ready to fly. He made a few clicks, grunted about new technology being confusing, but then we started lift off. I looked out the window to see not only Chris standing amongst the crowd, but...

A devastated, disheveled, and pissed off Claire clenching a handgun in her right hand. That was when I realized the stinging sensation in my leg, we were above the dome at that point; and I was bleeding. My thigh was covered in blood with a large hole in the center of it.

"Did you get shot?" Leon didn't take his eyes off the goal, and I pulled the coordinates out of my pocket and handed them to him.

"...Just a minor wound." I commented, and then glanced back down once again. They were merely ants to us now, and what waited for us would take us back to exactly that. A crazy Island that was once controlled by a boy with a bad ant collection.

Guess I can finally go back home, after all.

**Author's Note: **What did you think? Do you think Steve should have included everyone else in on his plan? I chose not to because of plot reasons, and because of previous statements from them all that they didn't want to be rash. Steve realizes that Leon is going to die soon anyways, and is tired of waiting to see where they will find an actual lead; he may only be acting on hunch, but at least he is acting. I had a bit of fun writing this chapter. I actually wrote it back in July right after my last update, and then re-wrote most of it today. Hope you all like it.


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